


The Perks of Being a Prefect

by TheAsexualScorpio



Series: Sansaery Hogwarts AU [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bathtub Sex, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Devious Margaery, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Gay Panic, Gryffindor Sansa, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Slytherin Margaery, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, oblivious Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualScorpio/pseuds/TheAsexualScorpio
Summary: A lot of privileges come with being a prefect: a later curfew, use of the prefects' lounge, and use of the prefects' bath. After a rough breakup with Joffrey, Sansa takes advantage of all of these new amenities.





	

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE!!  
> Little thing: the fic is marked underage, because Sansa would be underage in this AU. However, she does celebrate her 16th birthday in this fic.
> 
> Prompt based on this lovely photoset: https://theasexualscorpio.tumblr.com/post/154414247669/lornadoone-asoiaf-hogwarts-au-sansa

Fifth year was supposed to be the best year ever.

Sansa had received her prefects' badge. Her parents had been so excited about it that they'd bought her books, new dress robes, and an absolutely beautiful barn owl called Lady. She'd also been looking forward to all the new privileges she'd have as a prefect, including a spot in the private prefects' carriage on the Hogwarts Express, the use of the prefects' bathroom, and a later curfew. The best part of all was that she'd finally get to spend more time with her boyfriend.

When Joffrey made prefect last year, it had been hard to work around their different curfews and his patrolling schedule. It got so that they barely saw each other, and when they did, they fought all the time. Sansa making prefect this year was _supposed_ to make everything better. They would get to see each other more often, and they would finally be happy again. Instead, Sansa was spending her first night back at Hogwarts curled in Jeyne's arms, feeling like her heart had collapsed in on itself.

“It-it was s-s'posed to get b-better,” she sobbed into Jeyne's shoulder.

“I know,” Jeyne murmured, giving her a squeeze. “It's not fair.”

“Joff's a cunt anyway,” Mya called from her bed.

“He is _not_!” Sansa yelled, wrenching herself away from Jeyne to glare at Mya. She knew she probably looked about as threatening as a drowned rat right now, but hopefully it was enough to make Mya _shut up_. She and Joffrey just... had some problems. It happened, even to good couples like them. Joffrey wasn't a 'cunt.'

 _Not like Mychel Redfort anyway_ , a vicious part of Sansa wanted to add, but Jeyne pulled her back into a hug before she actually said it. The remnants of Sansa's rational mind applauded her friend's quick thinking. Mychel Redfort was a massive sore spot for Mya, and bringing him up would only hurt her. However, the larger, _wounded_ part of Sansa's mind wanted someone else to hurt instead. This ugly part was somewhat appeased when Randa reprimanded Mya.

“Too soon, My.”

Sansa felt the bed dip behind her, and she let out a grunt when Randa's not insubstantial weight settled over her back. Sansa shifted around until she got comfortable. Nothing was better than cuddling with her friends, than cuddling with _girls_ , period. None of them spoke for a long time after that. Instead, Jeyne's fingers began to slide through Sansa's hair in long, sure strokes, and Randa started to rub her back. Soon, Sansa's sobbing calmed and then stopped. The tears took a bit longer but they eventually stopped too. Only the ache in her chest remained, a twisted mass of confusion and hurt.

What hurt the most was how… calm Joffrey had been when he did it. He'd said it was a long time coming, that they fought all the time anyway, that they should _see other people_. It had sounded like he was reading from a script. It had sounded like he didn't care at all. Like shattering her heart into a billion pieces _bored_ him.

Her breath caught on another sob and she pressed closer to Jeyne.

“It'll get better, Sansa. It's awful now, but you'll be okay,” Randa replied, giving her a squeeze.

**~O~**

The first prefects' meeting of the year was the next night. Sansa knew it was going to be awful and, unfortunately, she was right. Joffrey hadn't so much as glanced in her direction once. It was like she wasn't even there. Instead, his focus was on the Head Girl, Margaery Tyrell.

Sansa had met Margaery once before, late last year. She'd been trying to confirm some plans with Joffrey, but he kept telling her that he had patrol right now and that he'd talk to her later. Sansa had known that 'later' really meant 'never,' and she was tired of getting the brush off. The only reason it didn't turn into a fight was because they’d turned a corner and Joffrey's face had lit up with a charming smile that Sansa hadn't seen in months. She’d watched, speechless, as Joffrey sauntered up to a girl standing outside the prefects' lounge with a bored look on her face. Sansa had trailed after him, unsure of what else to do, and heard him warmly greet the other girl. When Sansa also said 'hello,' Joffrey's head had jerked in her direction, eyes wide, like he'd forgotten she was there. His face had taken on a sort of tight-lipped expression then, like he hadn't _wanted_ her there. Margaery, however, had straightened up and _looked_ at her. Sansa had had to fight the urge to fidget under her unexpectedly intense gaze. A moment later, Margaery then turned to Joffrey and smiled.

“Who's this, Joffrey?”

It had taken Joffrey a long time to answer. Too long. How long did it take to introduce your girlfriend to someone? But, after an endless moment, he'd finally muttered, “Sansa. My girlfriend.”

Margaery's eyes had widened at that, and she'd snapped her head in Sansa's direction. Her gaze had trailed up and down Sansa's form again, and her lips had curled into a feline smirk. That look had hit Sansa like a curse. She actually wondered if it _had_ been some sort of curse because it brought every flaw Sansa had to the forefront of her mind, from her ungainly height and spindly figure to her flat chest and pallid skin. It had also made her compare herself to Margaery. She took in Margaery's curls and golden skin, her petite and curvy build, and the way she carried herself like a woman...and Sansa had felt inadequate. She'd never felt so bad about herself before, not even when she and Joffrey fought and he’d said mean things to her.

“I'm Margaery Tyrell,” she'd drawled, taking Sansa's hand to shake. “Joffrey's patrol partner.”

Sansa had worried about Margaery Tyrell for the rest of the year. She'd known, could feel it in her _bones_ , that Margaery could tempt Joffrey away from her anytime she wanted. And now, as Sansa watched Joffrey try to get Margaery's attention, it seemed she finally had. Every charming smile he sent in Margaery's direction was another knife in Sansa's heart.

By the time the meeting ended, Sansa's eyes were burning, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears. When the Heads dismissed them, she stood and bolted to the door as quickly as her dignity would allow. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough.

“Sansa Stark?”

Sansa froze, one hand gripping the door frame. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath through her nose. When she felt like she wasn't about to either burst into tears or scream at Margaery, she looked over her shoulder. She hoped she appeared politely questioning, rather than irritated.

“Would you stay for a moment, please?” Margaery asked.

Sansa's head jerked down in a nod, and she slowly turned around. The Head Boy gave Margaery a quizzical look, but she dismissed him with a wave. He shrugged and followed the rest of the prefects out the door while Sansa waited for Margaery to speak.

“Was there something you needed, Margaery?” Sansa asked, unable to take the silence.

“Right, sorry,” Margaery replied, shaking her head slightly. “Well, I was trying to think of a way to ask this that didn't seem like I was prying, but I guess I'll take a leaf out of your Gryffindor book and ask straight out.” She smiled a bit at Sansa, but when she didn't get a response, she looked serious again. “Is everything alright?”

Sansa stared at her for a long moment.

“Sansa?” Margaery prodded. She sounded _genuinely_ concerned, and the thought punched a mirthless laugh out of Sansa.

“Honestly?”

“I would expect nothing less from a Gryffindor,” Margaery said with a smile. Her attempt at teasing fell flat and she stopped smiling. Now she looked...compassionate, and it didn't seem as contrived as her teasing.

Sansa didn't get it.

She stiffened when Margaery took a step toward her, but if Margaery noticed, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she kept giving Sansa that strange, _sympathetic_ look. “I want you to know, Sansa, that you _can_ talk to me. It's part of my job as Head Girl to make sure that all my prefects are alright.”

“All your prefects?” Sansa asked.

The smile Margaery gave her was soft and inviting. “Of course.”

“Even Joffrey?”

The smile on Margaery's face grew tight. It seemed even more forced than her original attempts at teasing. “Of course,” she repeated.

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn't ask you to stay to talk about Joffrey,” Margaery said briskly. She tried her warm and inviting smile again. “I wanted to talk about you. Is everything alright? You seem... unhappy.”

Sansa couldn't imagine anyone who would be happy to talk to the person who stole their boyfriend but she decided to humor Margaery and be blunt. “Joffrey and I broke up.”

Margaery's eyes widened, and that _did_ look genuine. However, so did the smile that she wasn't quite able to hide. She did try though. “That's terrible. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not okay right now,” Sansa replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the smile fall from Margaery's lips. Sansa couldn't imagine why.

“Sansa—” Margaery started.

“But I will be. And I promise it won't affect my work as a prefect.”

Margaery watched her for a moment, like she was trying to see if Sansa was telling the truth. She nodded. “Alright then. I'll see you at the next prefects' meeting?”

Sansa nodded.

“Week after next. Don't forget,” Margaery said, but her smile let Sansa know that she was only teasing.

“I'll see you then,” Sansa said quietly. “Goodnight, Margaery.” With that, Sansa turned and left the room. She thought she might have heard Margaery call after her but she didn't acknowledge it. She didn't want to think any more about Margaery Tyrell.

**~O~**

The next two weeks proved Randa right. Things _did_ get better.

With OWLs coming at the end of the year, Sansa’s course load was more intense than it had ever been. She relished the extra work, however, as it kept her mind off of Joffrey. Different houses and class years had been detrimental to their relationship last year, but now they worked in Sansa's favor. It was much easier to avoid thinking about him when she barely saw him. Their prefects' schedules didn't overlap either. Though they patrolled on the same nights, their routes were on opposite sides of the castle, and they'd been partnered with different people. Sansa now had Jojen Reed, the new Ravenclaw prefect. Only a few weeks ago, she would have resented being paired with the weirdest boy in her year, but now she was grateful. She wouldn't have been able to handle working with Joffrey and pretending nothing was wrong. She'd take Jojen's cryptic words and relentless staring any day.

To Sansa's surprise, Joffrey wasn't paired with Margaery. Instead, he was with one of the new Slytherin prefects. Sansa didn't quite know what to make of that. She could understand arranging the schedule so that she and Joffrey never saw each other, but she didn't understand why Margaery wouldn't take the chance to patrol with Joffrey if she liked him. Between this and Margaery's concern after the prefects' meeting, Sansa was beginning to rethink her feelings about Margaery and Joffrey. If Margaery was actually _nice_ and _didn't_ steal Joffrey from her, then that meant Joffrey simply hadn't wanted Sansa anymore. It wasn't a conclusion Sansa appreciated.

That might have been why she found herself watching Margaery at meal times. She wanted to prove that conclusion was wrong. She didn't know what she was looking for, exactly—Margaery and Joffrey probably weren't going to sit next to each other and cackle evilly every meal—but she didn't find it. For the first several days, Joffrey sat with Margaery, smiled charmingly, and acted especially attentive. However, Margaery never seemed to appreciate any of it. Instead, when Margaery spoke at all, she appeared polite but brief. She didn't start any conversations, and she didn't encourage Joffrey when he did. She barely looked in his direction. When he tried to do things for her, she politely and firmly took over the task herself. Joffrey's face would take on that pinched look more and more every day and, almost a week into term, he stopped sitting with Margaery. When that happened, Margaery started smiling and laughing more, clearly relaxed with Joffrey gone.

Margaery soon noticed that Sansa was watching her every day, but all she did was smile brightly and wave. When she started doing it at every meal, Sansa began wave back. For some reason, it made Margaery smile even more. It seemed that Sansa was wrong. While Joffrey had clearly been interested in Margaery, Margaery hadn't returned his feelings. She was just a nice person who hadn't really had anything to do with their breakup. Joffrey just hadn't wanted to be with Sansa anymore. The thought didn't hurt as much as it had a week ago.

In the week leading up to the second prefects' meeting, Sansa continued to watch Margaery. She knew that Margaery was captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and that she met with her teammates twice a week. She spent a lot of time with some girls who looked a lot like her (cousins, Sansa soon learned). She noticed that Margaery rarely talked to anyone from the snooty pureblood crowd. She read a lot but never looked harried, so Sansa doubted that she was catching up on homework that she'd previously shirked. She would smile and wave at Sansa every time she caught her watching, and occasionally, she would point out the food or some silly thing one of her table-mates was doing and make a face. It made Sansa smile every time. By the end of the second week of term, she wondered if it would be possible for them to become friends.

On the way back to her dorm one evening, she thought about how she would approach Margaery. The obvious place to start, she reasoned, would be after the prefects' meeting tomorrow. She could stay afterwards and tell Margaery that she was feeling better and thank her for her concern. After that… Sansa wasn't sure. Maybe she could ask Margaery if she'd like to study together? She was still planning on how to proceed when she walked into her room and the whole room erupted in a shower of multicolored sparks. She startled and then cried out in surprise when her friends bellowed, “SURPRISE!”

Jeyne bounded over to Sansa and pulled her into a hug. “Happy Birthday, San!”

“What?” Sansa asked, pulling away. “Birthday?” Her birthday wasn't until tomorrow.

Jeyne gave her a look. “Ha ha, Sansa. Very funny.”

She must have seen the confusion on Sansa's face because Jeyne's mildly reproachful look was replaced with a hesitant one.

“Wait, you actually forgot your own birthday? You're not pretending because you were angry at us for acting like _we_ forgot?”

“No,” Sansa replied, brow furrowing. “My birthday's not until tomorrow.”

Mya scoffed and pointed to Sansa's bed. “Then, what are those?”

Sansa looked and noticed the small pile of packages on her bed. She'd seen them this morning but she'd been in too much of a hurry to really look at them. Then she'd been so distracted thinking about Margaery that she'd totally forgotten about them.

“Today's the fifteenth? Really?” Sansa asked, growing more excited with every word.

“Yes, it's the fifteenth!” Jeyne replied, swatting her on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday!”

Sansa flung herself onto her bed with a squeal, ignoring her friends' laughter, and began tearing into her presents. Her parents had given her some new books, and Rickon had sent her a hand drawn card. From Arya, she found a gift certificate from Madam Malkins, which impressed Sansa, because Arya usually gave her gag gifts. From Bran, she got a beautifully illustrated book of poetry, but when she got to her gift from Robb and Jon, she screamed.

All of her friends started, and Mya squawked, “What!”

When she showed them the fifty galleon gift certificate Robb and Jon had sent, Randa and Jeyne screamed with her. Sansa was amazed that either of them even knew Twilfitt & Tattings existed. Jon in particular bought his clothes cheap and was content to wear them until they fell apart with age. Sansa resolved right then to hug the life out of both of them when she came home for Christmas. She didn't even care that Jon wasn't a hugger, he was getting one.

When her friends finished screaming with her over the gift certificate, they gave her their own presents. Randa passed her a bottle of high end mead with a wink and a smirk. Mya gave her a massive bag of Honeydukes gourmet chocolate, and Jeyne got her a huge basket of hair and cosmetics potions.

“Good haul,” Mya said approvingly.

“I think so too,” Sansa replied, taking a bite of her one of her chocolates. “Thank you guys so much.” She gave each of them a hug.

“We should do something fun,” Randa said.

“No going out after curfew!” was Sansa's immediate reply. She wanted to make a good impression with Margaery. The last thing she needed was to get caught after curfew the night before a prefects' meeting.

Her friends groaned in perfect unison.

“But Sansa...” Randa whined.

“No buts.”

“Why not?” Mya huffed.

“What would we even do anyway?” Sansa asked. “Literally, the only reason people sneak out after curfew is to snog somebody from another house. It's not like I can do that anymore, and if you lot have plans to snog somebody on _my_ birthday, then you all suck.”

Mya snorted, and Randa and Jeyne both grinned.

“To answer your question, we'd do something against the rules and therefore fun,” Randa said. Her lips curved into a wicked smile. “Is Joffrey patrolling tonight?”

“Oh gods, if he is, we should definitely stay in,” Jeyne replied.

“We should definitely go out,” Mya corrected. “We could hide behind suits of armor and hex him. Sansa can pick her favorite.”

Sansa imagined the creative hexes Mya would come up with and burst into giggles, making the others laugh too. Mya actually looked relieved more than anything else, and Sansa's expression softened into a fond smile. She was probably worried that Sansa would yell at her after the last time she insulted Joffrey. It was okay though. Sansa didn't feel like she had to defend him anymore.

“It's settled then!” Randa exclaimed. “Sansa's finally in that wonderful place where she doesn't cry over Joffrey and instead laughs at his pain. Now, we really do have to go out.”

“No, we can't!” Sansa cried, flopping on her backward onto her bed.

“You haven’t given us one good reason to not go outside the tower and do something fun for your birthday,” Jeyne said stubbornly.

Sansa braced herself on her elbows. “I have a prefects' meeting _tomorrow._ How's that for a good reason?”

Mya rolled her eyes and both Jeyne and Randa looked exasperated, but none of them contradicted her. They wouldn't be going out that night.

“You're probably right,” Mya said after a moment. “If you got caught, that Tyrell bitch would probably make an example of you.”

Sansa bristled a bit at the insult to Margaery but tried not to show it. Instead, she cocked her head at Mya. “What did Margaery Tyrell ever do to you?”

Mya raised her eyebrows at her and said, blunt as ever: “She hurt you, dummy.”

Sansa's brows furrowed. She was even more confused when she saw Randa and Jeyne giving her similar looks. “No, she didn't,” she said. “Or, if she did, I don't remember it.”

At that, her friends exchanged looks that Sansa couldn’t read. A moment later, Mya picked up Jeyne's gift basket. “What in here anyway?”

Jeyne scooted closer to Mya and started poking through the basket. “Oh, it has this new hair-curling potion I heard about, and some _really_ fancy shampoo, and some sculpting gel—”

“What are you guys talking about?” Sansa interrupted. “What do you mean Margaery hurt me?”

Her friends exchanged looks and then Mya spoke again. “It was _her_ fault Joff dumped you. She was flirting with him for months. I thought you noticed.”

Sansa felt like someone had hit her with a Stunner. “Joff—Joff always said there was nothing going on between them.”

Mya gave her another incredulous look, and Sansa immediately felt stupid. Of course Joffrey said there was nothing between them. Mya sighed and gave Sansa a rueful look.

“I also saw Margaery ask Joff to go out with her next Hogsmeade weekend.” She tried to soften the words, but they still hit Sansa hard. Her eyes began to sting, and she looked down, blinking rapidly to keep the tears away.

“When?” she asked hoarsely.

“Like, two weeks ago after dinner. Then Joff broke up with you, like an hour later.”

Sansa's breath hitched and her friends were holding her almost immediately, Mya first.

“I'm so sorry I brought it up!” she exclaimed, hugging Sansa tightly. “I thought you knew, and then when you didn't, I thought you _should_ know because Margaery's a bitch and Joff's a cunt but I really should have just shut up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“It wasn't you,” Sansa croaked.

It was _Margaery._

Sansa couldn't believe she'd wanted to be her friend! She couldn't believe she'd even considered it! She had _known_ that Margaery was trying to steal Joffrey from her, but when Margaery had been nice to her for just one moment, Sansa had eaten it right up. Margaery had probably laughed herself silly once she was away from Sansa. Poor, stupid little Sansa. She didn't cry, but her mood was ruined for the rest of the night, no matter what her friends did to try and cheer her up.

**~O~**

Her friends kept shooting furtive looks at her the next day, like they were expecting her to burst into tears at any moment. It irritated her, and whenever she thought about _why_ her friends were treating her like she was made of eggshells and spun glass, she got even angrier. Margaery had _stolen_ Joffrey from her and then acted like she had no idea why Sansa was upset. She scoffed. ' _You can talk to me._ ' Yeah, right.

By dinner time, Sansa was seething. A huge part of her wanted to curse Margaery right there in the Great Hall. She bet Joffrey wouldn't want anything to do with his precious Margaery if she were covered in boils. Sansa could make Marietta Edgecombe's cursed acne look like a mild sunburn. When dinner ended and Margaery started toward the prefects' lounge, Sansa stalked after her. Eyes locked on Margaery's brown curls, Sansa reached into her robe and took hold of her wand. She could do it. She could curse Margaery right now. It would be so easy.

Margaery turned to enter the lounge and caught Sansa's eye. She waved, beaming, and Sansa's jaw clenched. She let go of her wand and hurried past Margaery into the room. A few of the other prefects were already there, all seated together on one of the couches, and Sansa was glad for their presence. She didn't want to be alone with Margaery right now. The couch opposite them was empty, as were the two arm chairs on either side, but Sansa didn't want to sit in any of them and risk having Margaery sit nearby. She wedged herself in with the others on the full couch instead, right between Jojen Reed and the couch's left arm. The other prefects shot her dirty looks, but Jojen seemed unaffected. Once she was settled, he turned his unnerving green eyes on her.

“If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate,” he said solemnly.

“Yes, erm, that's...interesting,” Sansa replied.

He nodded and then went back to staring at nothing. For a lack of anything better to look at, she followed suit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margaery moving around, but any time she wandered too far into Sansa's field of vision, Sansa turned her head to look at something else. She thought she might have seen Margaery glaring at her, but she resisted the urge to glare back. She wouldn't give Margaery the satisfaction, she decided. After the meeting, she wouldn't have to deal with Margaery for two whole weeks. Over the next ten minutes, the Head Boy and the rest of the prefects trickled into the lounge, Joffrey coming in last. Sansa almost smirked when she saw him sit as far away from Margaery as possible. The meeting started once he was settled, and it thankfully didn't take very long. It was simply a rehashing of routine stuff, and it barely took half an hour. Once it was over, Sansa pulled herself out of her seat and tried to bolt again. Once again, Margaery stopped her.

“Sansa? Would you stay behind for a moment, please?”

Sansa froze in the doorway, gripping the door frame. A few of the other prefects passed her, giving her curious looks. Joffrey passed her as well, his shoulder slamming into hers and making her stumble. However, he didn't spare her a look as he left the lounge. She glared after him as she straightened herself.

“Sansa?” Margaery asked, sounding concerned.

A big part of Sansa wanted to tell Margaery off. However, a more rational part won out. She'd had enough time to think about it, and she knew that it wouldn't be a smart idea to make an enemy of the Head Girl. So, she turned and faced Margaery. She noticed then that the Head Boy was still in the room and she hoped that, somehow, they both wanted to talk to her. That hope was immediately dashed when Margaery waved him off with a “'Bye, Teddy.”

Teddy waved at both of them and then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Won't you sit down?” Margaery asked after a moment of silence.

Sansa trudged over to one of the armchairs and dropped into it. Margaery leaned against a large desk pressed against the opposite wall.

“Sansa, I understand that you're a very private person, but I'm worried about you. Are you still struggling with your breakup?”

“I'm fine, Margaery,” Sansa gritted.

“Well, you don't seem fine,” Margaery replied, and she seemed so _genuinely_ concerned that Sansa wanted to vomit. “You seem angry. And, like I told you before, you can talk to me. I promise, as Head Girl, nothing you say to me leaves this room if you want it to.”

That did it.

“Stop,” Sansa said.

Margaery froze. “Sorry?”

“I said stop. Stop with the 'concerned Head Girl' act! Stop acting like you care that I'm upset. Stop _mocking_ me!” Sansa shouted the last three words, and she was pleased when Margaery flinched. However, she soon collected herself and took a couple of steps toward Sansa.

“Mocking you? I would never—”

“You're doing it right now, and I've had enough!” Sansa snapped, wrenching herself out of her seat. She stalked toward Margaery and backed her up against the desk, pressing against the other girl until her wide eyes were inches from Sansa's own and their bodies were flush against each other. Margaery's mouth fell open, and she jolted when Sansa's hands slammed into the desk on either side of her.

“It's bad enough that you stole Joffrey from me,” Sansa snarled. “I'm not going to put up with you mocking me for it!”

Margaery blinked. “Stole Joffrey?”

“Yes! You flirted with him all last year and then asked him out! You made him break up with me!”

Margaery let out a breathless croak of a laugh. “Sansa, I promise you, I am definitely not interested in Joffrey.”

“Do you really think I'm that stupid?” Sansa demanded. She slammed her palms on the desk again, making Margaery jolt. “My friend Mya _saw_ you with him in the library at the beginning of term!”

Margaery opened her mouth and then closed it again.

“Nothing to say?” Sansa taunted. She reached up and tapped Margaery on the temple. “That Slytherin brain of yours finally run out of _lies_?”

Margaery's eyes darted back and forth between Sansa's face and the door, trying to find an escape route, so Sansa pressed closer and glared. Margaery's eyes connected with Sansa's.

Margaery grabbed Sansa's face and yanked her mouth down to hers.

Sansa's brain and her roaring anger both screeched to a halt. Her jaw dropped, and Margaery's tongue slipped into her mouth, doing something that made Sansa's stomach flip. She'd never been kissed like this before. Joffrey's kisses had always been hard and biting, often too much. Margaery's was...so many things. Slick and forceful, sinuous and _filthy_ , it was too much and not enough all at the same time. She kissed with the kind of finesse that drew Sansa's mind irresistibly to sex, but underneath that skill was an exhilarating, breathless _need_ that sparked a fire in the base of Sansa's stomach. When Margaery pulled away, Sansa was panting and already a little wet.

A metallic click, followed a wooden thunk were deafening in the empty room. Sansa jerked in surprise and then froze when she caught sight of the wand in Margaery's hand. Of course Margaery had been trying to distract her. Now, she'd locked the door, and she was going to curse Sansa within an inch of her life. Sansa doubted that she could reach her own wand in time to defend. She braced herself for whatever Margaery was going to hit her with.

She gasped when Margaery simply tossed her wand away and then pulled her in for another, gentler kiss. Her tongue slid into Sansa's mouth and flicked at her tongue, trying to coax Sansa into kissing back. It occurred to Sansa then that she should probably do something, but she couldn't make herself move. A moment later, Margaery pulled away again, panting, and she beamed at Sansa with such unbridled joy that she almost looked unhinged. Sansa simply stared at her, mouth agape. Suddenly, she realized that she could feel the desk digging into her lower back. Margaery had somehow reversed their positions.

“Why in hells would I want Joffrey?” Margaery rasped, and for a second, Sansa couldn't remember what she was talking about. Then it all came back to her and it felt like she'd been doused with the _Aguamenti_ spell. Joffrey. Margaery had stolen Joffrey from her. Before she could push the other girl away, Margaery laughed again. “I mean, can you imagine what an anniversary gift from him would be like? A necklace of dead sparrow heads probably.”

Sansa echoed Margaery's laugh, partly because she couldn't believe this was happening—that Margaery had actually _kissed_ her—and partly because, as outrageous as it sounded, Margaery was right. Sansa remembered how, last summer, Joffrey had made her go hunting with him for his birthday. Even as besotted as she'd been with him at the time, it had still unnerved her, how much Joffrey seemed to enjoy drawing his kills out.

Margaery smiled in response, warm and indulgent and so unbelievably fond, and then nuzzled Sansa's neck, the soft touch tingling beneath Sansa's skin. “You have a lovely laugh,” she said, lips brushing Sansa's throat. “Lovely everything really.” Her hands moved away from Sansa's face to her shoulders and then down to her waist. She pressed a kiss to the hollow of Sansa's throat and grinned when Sansa sighed in response. “I remember the night we met,” she murmured, her breath fanning over the skin of Sansa's neck. “And thinking there was no way someone as obnoxious as Joffrey managed to land someone like you.”

“You...” Sansa was having trouble focusing but she managed to get out: “You asked him to Hogsmeade.”

Margaery hummed against her neck. “I didn't want him. But... I have a way of reading people—” Sansa shivered when she felt Margaery's teeth lightly scrape against her skin. “—and you, Sansa Stark, wouldn't have gone out with me if I'd just asked you.” She sunk her teeth into Sansa's neck and then sucked hard. Sansa went boneless, and she scrabbled at Margaery's shoulders to keep herself upright. Margaery moaned softly and licked at the spot before speaking again. “You'd have stayed with Joffrey forever if he wished it.”

Faintly, Sansa noticed Margaery's hands sliding back up her arms and then pushing her robes apart. They slipped down her arms, and Margaery pulled away from where she'd been mouthing at Sansa's neck.

“So,” Margaery continued. “if I wanted you, I had to make it so Joffrey _wouldn't_ wish it.” She moved back to look up at Sansa's face, and Sansa was struck by the naked longing in her eyes. “And gods, do I want you.”

Sansa stared at Margaery.

She had purposely interfered with Sansa's relationship. She was the reason Joffrey had left her. Sansa should be angry. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn't make herself feel it. Instead, all she felt was that fire in the pit of her stomach, growing hotter and licking beneath every inch of her skin. She could feel how tender that spot on her neck was and how her swollen lips seemed to throb in time with her pounding heart. Her nipples were hard and aching beneath her shirt, and she was so wet that she was certain she'd soaked through her knickers. It had never been like this with Joffrey, never. He'd never made her feel so needy with just a few kisses like Margaery did. He'd never looked at her like he could go without air as long as he was touching her, the way Margaery was looking at her now. It was dizzying, exhilarating and, as wrong as it was, she wanted more.

She bent down—and wasn't _that_ strange?—to touch Margaery's lips with her own.

Margaery groaned and grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her closer and thrusting her tongue into Sansa's mouth. This time, Sansa kissed back, letting out a soft moan at the silken feel of Margaery's lips and tongue moving against hers. Her hands moved away from Margaery's shoulders and settled on her waist, pulling her closer and startling a yelp out of the other girl. Sansa smiled at the noise and slid one of her hands up until she reached the back of her neck. She startled when she felt something touch her breast, and she broke the kiss with a gasp. A glance downward showed Margaery's fingers sliding over her chest through the fabric of her shirt. Margaery's other hand moved up to join the first, and the breath left Sansa's body when Margaery's hands closed over her breasts, weighing them in her palms and then pushing them up and together.

“Oh, how I've thought of these,” Margaery rasped. She gave them another squeeze and grinned when Sansa whimpered.

“Joffrey...Joffrey always said they were too small,” Sansa breathed. Then, she realized what she’d said and her face flamed. That was a stupid thing to say. Now Margaery was going to notice too.

Instead, she scoffed. “Joffrey's an idiot. They _feel_ as perfect as the rest of you.” She smiled wickedly and then purposely jostled Sansa's breasts, making them jiggle. Sansa yelped and felt her cheeks heat up even more. Margaery stood on tiptoe and kissed Sansa's ear, her tongue tracing over the shell of it and making Sansa shudder. “Do you want to know what _I_ think about them? What I've _been_ thinking about them?”

“Yes,” Sansa gasped. Gods, she wanted to know. She felt Margaery grin against her ear.

“I think about what color your nipples are,” she murmured. She flicked Sansa's earlobe with her tongue and then nipped it. “I think about what they must taste like and how they'd feel getting hard under my tongue.”

Sansa let out a helpless moan. Margaery echoed it.

“And that,” she gasped, squeezing and caressing Sansa's breasts. “I think about sucking on your nipples and hearing you make noises just like that. Oh, fuck.”

She gripped Sansa's thighs and hauled her onto the desk. Before Sansa could process _that_ , Margaery's hands were on her shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. Once she had enough buttons undone, Margaery shoved the shirt down Sansa's arms. Her hands settled over Sansa's breasts and squeezed, both girls letting out relieved moans at the feeling. She didn't linger though, merely giving Sansa's breasts another squeeze before tugging the cups of her bra down and descending on the newly exposed flesh. Sansa started when Margaery's tongue traced a wet circle around one of her nipples and then keened when Margaery took the nipple in her mouth. It was astonishing how _hot_ Margaery's mouth was.

Margaery started sucking, using quick, teasing pulls that made Sansa writhe and clutch at the back of the other girl's head. Eventually, she switched to Sansa's other nipple and started the process over, circling with her tongue and torturing Sansa with soft, tantalizing drags at the hardened bud. Sansa buried both hands in Margaery's hair and tugged her closer, her hips bucking when Margaery did something with her tongue that sent a shock of pleasure straight to Sansa's clit. She never wanted this to end!

She whined when Margaery pulled away, but it turned into a pleased mewl when Margaery's lips met hers. A moment later, she started pushing Sansa to one side and, after a confused second, Sansa realized what Margaery was trying to do. She let Margaery guide her until she was lying across the length of the desk. Margaery pulled away again, making her frown, but she calmed when she saw Margaery skirting around the edge of the desk until she was standing between Sansa's legs. She let out a shaky sigh when Margaery's fingers began to play with the hem of her skirt, and she felt another blush rise in her cheeks. She _knew_ what was going to happen next, but she still gasped when Margaery flipped her skirt up to reveal her knickers.

“I thought about this too.”

Oh gods, Margaery was _talking_ again. A strangled noise forced its way out of Sansa's mouth as Margaery's fingers trailed over the front of her underwear.

“What you'd look like spread out under me. Sometimes naked in my bed and sometimes just like this: lying across a desk, half-naked because we were too desperate for each other to waste time getting undressed.” She leaned over and nipped one of Sansa's exposed nipples, grinning when it made the other girl squeak. She then crawled onto the desk, kissing her way up Sansa's neck to her mouth, both girls groaning when her body settled on top of Sansa's. Sansa gasped when Margaery cupped her through her knickers. Margaery smiled against her mouth. She kissed and licked her way to Sansa's ear and then she was talking again.

“I especially thought about this,” she breathed, grinding her palm against Sansa's mound. She shuddered when Margaery's fingers slipped beneath her waistband and began to slide up and down through her wet folds. “I would touch myself,” Margaery confessed, and Sansa felt her body tense up with need. “I made myself come over and over again, imagining how wet you'd be, how you'd feel around my fingers—” Sansa let out a broken moan as one of Margaery's fingers slid into her. “—what you'd taste like, and how hot you'd be around my tongue.”

Sansa panted and writhed as Margaery's finger moved back and forth inside her and gasped loudly when another finger joined the first. “Margaery, please...” she rasped.

“Fuck,” Margaery said under her breath. She took a quick breath and pressed a kiss under Sansa's ear. “Please what, Sansa? Tell me.” She was almost pleading.

“More!” Sansa begged.

“Alright. Alright, you can have more, sweet girl. You can have everything.”

Sansa cried out when Margaery's fingers sped up and her thumb began moving in quick circles around her clit. When Margaery leaned down and took one of her nipples into her mouth, Sansa's hips jerked so hard that she almost bucked Margaery off. Gods, she was so close, so

She almost cried when Margaery pulled away.

“I know. I know, I'm sorry,” Margaery murmured, raining kisses on Sansa's face. “But I need to taste you.”

She pushed herself up and slid off the desk, grabbing the desk chair and dragging it around to the side. She dropped into it, and Sansa sighed when Margaery's hands settled on her hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her knickers. She lifted her hips to help Margaery pull them down her legs, and she shuddered when Margaery's hands settled high on her thighs. Looking down, she found Margaery staring up at her beneath her lashes.

“Please,” Sansa rasped.

Margaery let out a huff of incredulous laughter and then surged forward, licking Sansa from opening to clit in one long stroke. Sansa's hips jerked, making Margaery grunt and settle a forearm across Sansa's hips. Then she went to work, her tongue flicking rapidly over Sansa's clit while she slid two fingers in and out of her. Each lash of Margaery's tongue wracked through Sansa's body like a lightning bolt, and soon, the powerful sensation began to coalesce low in her belly, growing denser and denser with each passing moment. Sansa's fingers curled into Margaery's hair, and Margaery redoubled her efforts, slipping a third finger inside and sucking on Sansa's clit. A moment later, the pressure building low in Sansa's stomach snapped, and Sansa came hard. She wasn't sure but she might have screamed. She only came back to herself when she felt another shock of sensation between her legs, almost painful in its intensity. She looked down and realized Margaery was still licking. Weakly, she pushed Margaery away, unable to take any more.

She started when Margaery crawled on top of her again, straddling one of her thighs. She grabbed Margaery's face and yanked her mouth down to hers. She kissed her hard, desperate to somehow convey her gratitude and fervent _awe_. No one had ever made her feel so good before. When she realized that she could taste herself on Margaery's lips, she let out a loud moan, and Margaery echoed it, pressing even closer. Her movements made Sansa aware of Margaery's still-clothed chest brushing against her own, and, timidly, she reached down and trailed her fingertips over one of Margaery's breasts.

The other girl pulled away with a smack of lips.“Yes! Yes, _please_!”

Margaery pushed herself upright and attacked her shirt with shaking hands. Once the first few buttons were undone, she wrenched the shirt over her head and flung it off to one side. Her bra came loose a moment later, sliding down her arms, and she tugged it off. She threw it in the same direction as her shirt before taking Sansa's hands and pressing them against her breasts.

Sansa groaned as her hands tightened over the flesh in her hands. She'd seen other girls' bare breasts before and often found herself fascinated with the differences between them and her own. She'd always wondered if they were as soft as they looked, but this was the first time she'd ever been allowed to touch. She squeezed and rubbed at Margaery's breasts, pushing them up and together and then letting them fall before closing her hands over them again. They were bigger than Sansa's, heavy and spilling out of her hands, but they were so, so soft. Sansa wanted to press her face against them and run her tongue over the velvety skin, but she found her eyes drawn to Margaery's nipples. They were darker and more prominent than her own and, curious, she squeezed one between her thumb and forefinger. She laughed breathlessly at the squeal it forced past Margaery's lips, and the sound brought her attention back to the rest of Margaery. She gasped when she realized the other girl was grinding against her thigh. Blood rushed to her cheeks, part embarrassment and part arousal, and she felt herself start to get wet again. She looked back down at Margaery's breasts and made a decision.

She leaned forward and took one of Margaery's nipples into her mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Margaery gasped, burying a hand in Sansa's hair. “Yes! Yes, sweetling!”

She started to move faster against Sansa's thigh, rubbing in quick, hard strokes. Sansa groaned into Margaery's chest. She sucked at Margaery's nipple, harder than Margaery did to her and flicked her tongue around it. She loved this. She loved the faint salty taste of Margaery's skin and the firm, spongy flesh of Margaery's nipple against her tongue. She loved the way Margaery's hands tangled in her hair to pull her closer, and she loved the feel of Margaery rubbing herself against her leg, chasing her own pleasure. Sansa groaned against Margaery's breast again and reached down to clutch at her arse, dragging her even harder against her leg. Soon, Margaery tensed and came with a breathless shout. She collapsed on top of Sansa, who grunted and then let out a contented sigh when Margaery relaxed against her, burying her face in Sansa's neck.

For a long time after that, they simply laid together, neither one of them speaking. Sansa's hand seemed to move on its own, trailing fingers up and down Margaery's back. She reveled in the softness of Margaery's skin, warm and slick with sweat, beneath her hand. She and Margaery were the only living things in the world right now. Everything else felt muffled and still. After a while, Margaery began peppering soft, lazy kisses on Sansa's neck, and she smiled when Sansa arched against her like a cat. Her lips soon found their way to Sansa's, and they kissed slow and sweet. It sent a shot of warmth through Sansa's blood, and it took a moment for her to focus when Margaery pulled away. Judging by the sly smile on her face, Margaery knew just how much she affected Sansa. Sansa could only beam drunkenly in response, and Margaery's sly look softened into a fond on.

Suddenly, a bell tolled, making them both start. They looked around and saw that the noise had come from the clock above the fireplace. It was nine o'clock curfew for the other students. Sansa didn't have to be back in Gryffindor tower for another hour, but she'd probably need most of that time to get dressed and make the walk back to her common room. Margaery seemed to come to the same conclusion, and she gave Sansa a rueful smile before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Talk to you soon,” she said against Sansa's mouth, and Sansa immediately nodded.

Margaery pushed herself up and slid off the desk. Sansa started to sit up as well but started when Margaery suddenly shrieked. Her gaze snapped to Margaery, and she burst into giggles when she saw Margaery hurrying across the room to rescue her shirt, which had landed inches from the fire. The giggles tapered off, and she watched, feeling impossibly fond, as Margaery flitted around the room, snatching up her abandoned clothes. Once she was done, Margaery looked back at Sansa, and her lips curled into a smirk. Sansa realized then that she hadn't started dressing. She was still almost topless and missing her knickers. Her breath caught as Margaery _prowled_ back to the desk, stopping between Sansa's legs. She made a show of bending forward to place a lingering kiss on Sansa's nipple, and all the breath left Sansa's body in a rush. Margaery leisurely kissed her way up Sansa's chest, to her neck, and then to her mouth. The kiss was a slow, sensual drag of lips and tongues that left Sansa panting and boneless. Faintly, she noticed Margaery's lips trailing up her jaw to her ear.

“You need to put some clothes on,” she whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Sansa's thigh. “Otherwise we’re _both_ going to be very late.”

Sansa nodded but she couldn't make herself move. It didn't matter too much anyway. Margaery took care of it for her. She tucked Sansa’s breasts back into bra and pulled her shirt back over her shoulders. She buttoned it back up and gave her another kiss, a playful smack of lips that made them both grin. She took Sansa's hands and pulled her off the desk. Sansa looked around and frowned.

“Where are my knickers?” she asked.

Margaery laughed. “They must be here somewhere.”

A few minutes later, neither of them still hadn't found them. Sansa really didn't want to leave without them, but she decided that if she couldn't find them, she doubted anyone else would either. Suddenly, she burst into another fit of giggles.

“What?” Margaery laughed.

“I was just thinking you probably threw my knickers in the fire.”

It wasn't, that funny but both of them laughed anyway, breathless and giddy. The laughter caught in Sansa's throat when Margaery suddenly backed her against a wall, pressing the length of her body against hers.

“They're better off there anyway,” Margaery murmured and then kissed Sansa again. Sansa moaned and buried her fingers in Margaery's hair. She was panting when they broke apart.

“We really do have to go now,” Margaery sighed.

The realization hit Sansa hard then. She would have to go back to her dorm and her friends and act like her entire life hadn't just been turned upside down. She had the sudden and absurd feeling that this was all a dream that she would wake from as soon as she left this room. She really didn't want to wake up. She gave Margaery another lingering kiss, but Margaery pulled away sooner than she would have liked. Together, they walked out of the lounge. Once they were in the corridor, they turned and went in opposite directions.

**~O~**

Sansa was right. She did feel like she was waking from a dream. The closer she got to Gryffindor tower, the more the euphoric haze of _sexMargaerywant_ faded. Her heart sunk deeper and deeper in her chest with each step, and she became more and more aware of things she hadn't even noticed when she left the prefects' lounge. Her thigh was tacky with Margaery's dried come. It felt sloppy and gross between her legs, her own wetness making her cringe. She desperately wished that she’d found her knickers. Soon, instead of naughty and exhilarated, Sansa just felt dirty. Everyone in Gryffindor would see her, and they would _know_. They would know she had had sex. Did it even count as sex when she hadn't had anything more than a tongue and a couple of fingers inside her?

Sansa dismissed that thought as soon as it formed. Surely something that had affected her so strongly couldn't be called anything but sex. She had had _sex_. With a girl. In the prefects' lounge where anyone could have seen, and she'd liked it. It had felt _right_ in a way it had never had with Joffrey. Any time she'd tried to do something physical with him, it had left Sansa feeling off-kilter and wrong. He'd been all hard planes and angles; a wall that kept her out. Margaery was all curves and softness; enveloping Sansa and making her feel warm and welcome.

 _And you certainly made yourself at home_ , said a derisive voice in her head.

What kind of person was she? She'd been with Joffrey nearly a year and they hadn't done much more than snog and touch each other over their clothes. Then, not even three weeks after they’d broken up, she’d gone and had sex with someone she'd only met a few times. What kind of person was she, that she would do something like that? And with a _girl_ no less? Her breathing devolved into short, panicked bursts. Did this mean she was gay? Or a lesbian? This makes her a lesbian, doesn't it? She couldn't be gay, could she? Not that there was anything wrong with being gay but _she_ wasn't gay.

 _Except you had sex with a girl_ , the derisive voice in her head pointed out. _And you liked it. A lot._

She did have sex with a girl, she admitted to herself, ignoring the last half of that thought. But she couldn't be gay. That wasn't how her life was supposed to go. She'd always loved boys. She'd always wanted to be with boys. Giggling over boys was as much a part of her as having red hair. Liking girls like... _that_ didn't fit anywhere in her life. Maybe she was just curious? That was definitely true. The entire time she and Margaery were together, Sansa waited with bated breath for whatever Margaery was going to do next. It was like she wouldn't have been able to breathe again until she _knew_.

It had never been like that with Joffrey, not with any boy. But then she'd never done anything with a boy other than Joffrey. The obvious answer was to try it with another boy. Then she would know that what had happened with Margaery was just a fluke, nothing more than a massive, glowing sign that she and Joffrey were _not_ right for each other. There was no doubting that now. She didn't want Joffrey and probably never had. However, she _couldn't_ want Margaery, because Sansa didn't like girls like that. She liked boys. All she needed to do to prove it was snog another boy.

 _Having sex with a boy would be a fairer basis of comparison_ , that stupid voice piped up.

Sansa's stomach turned at the thought. It was probably because the idea of having sex with another boy made her think of Joffrey. And also because she'd literally _just_ had sex. Or...done things. Because it wasn't really sex if she hadn't had a penis inside her. She was totally still a virgin. She was still a virgin, and she was going to stay that way for now, because no one wanted to... do things with two different people on the same night. That was just disgusting. But soon, _soon,_ she'd try with a boy. Then she would like it and that would prove that she wasn't really into girls. She'd just been _way_ more over Joffrey than she thought she was. She'd moved on, she'd been curious, and she'd acted on that curiosity with Margaery Tyrell. Now, the experience was over and done with, and she was a more mature, worldly woman because of it. She could go back to being normal. With boys. When she entered the portrait hole, she was resolved to her plan.

However, the sight of her classmates made Sansa's cheeks flush, no matter how she clenched her jaw and _willed_ them not to. She had no reason to blush. There was nothing to be ashamed of. She'd just been experimenting and now it was over. Besides, none of them would treat her badly for doing things with a girl, because it wasn't right to treat gay people like that. Even if Sansa _totally_ wasn't gay. It still felt like they would know exactly what happened if they looked at her long enough though. They would know that she wasn't wearing knickers and that her boobs felt uncomfortably squished into her bra because Margaery hadn't really taken the time to carefully put it back on her when she'd been too dazed to do it herself. Sansa had still been able to feel Margaery's mouth on her, and that had distracted her.

Fire erupted in her cheeks again, and Sansa shoved thoughts of Margaery's mouth away. She focused instead on the people around her and on _not blushing._ Oh gods, she needed to get to her room. She picked up the pace until she was practically jogging up the steps to her dorm. When she found her room empty, all the breath left her body in a rush, and her knees buckled. She stumbled and caught herself before taking several deep breaths, trying to slow her galloping heart. Thank the gods her friends weren't there. Even if the others had had no idea what she'd been up to, her friends surely would’ve been able to tell that something had happened. They would have pushed until she told them everything, and she just couldn’t imagine doing that.

Right now, she didn't have to. Right now, she could _think_ and start putting back together the pieces of her life. Her friends would never have to know that anything had broken. Decision made, she dropped her bag and wand by her bed, dug around in her trunk for her toiletries, and headed for the showers. The shower was quick and efficient, and as she made her way back to her room, she smiled a little. What happened between her and Margaery no longer felt obvious to anyone who looked at her. Her smile widened when she returned to her room and found it still empty. Maybe it would stay empty until it was time for bed, she thought, fishing a hairbrush out of her trunk. One hundred strokes, she decided, just like Mum used to do. Sansa soon lost herself in the rhythm of it, counting brush strokes until it was the only thing on her mind. If something, or someone, else tried to make an appearance in her head, she would count the strokes aloud until they went away.

Brushing her hair that way took forever, but Sansa's relaxation made it worth it. Smiling, she put the brush away and then quickly braided her hair. She dropped into her bed and picked up her bag, deciding to do some homework. Soon, she lost herself in the pure _frustration_ that was Arithmancy. Distantly, she noticed when her friends began to return, but she only grunted in response to their greetings. She didn't speak to any of them until she finished and even then it was only to tell them she was going to sleep. Curling up in bed, she took deep, slow breaths until she drifted off to sleep.

**~O~**

She awoke some time later with a gasp.

A quick glance around didn't reveal any light shining through her curtains, and when she listened for it, she could hear Jeyne's breathing and Randa's faint snoring. Sansa let out a sigh of relief and tried to calm herself. Her eyes squeezed shut, but that only made the images flickering through her head even clearer. They popped back open, and she turned over, gasping at the drag of the sheets against her oversensitive skin. The feeling worsened the ache between her thighs that she had been trying to ignore since she woke up.

Her dream had been so real, like it had been happening in real time, and she'd woken up wet, aching, and so frustrated she could cry. When she blinked, she saw Margaery's rare, guileless smile. She blinked again and saw the devious gleam in Margaery's eyes, looking up at Sansa from beneath long lashes as her mouth worked against—

Sansa's clit throbbed, and she rolled onto her other side, away from the stupid pictures in her head. She curled into a ball, and her breath hitched at the dull pleasure she got from squeezing her thighs together. She relaxed her thighs for a second and then tightened them again, the sensation forcing a shaky sigh out of her. She was so wet she could probably come from this alone. She refused. She refused to make herself come to thoughts of Margaery Tyrell. She _didn't_ like girls like that. She turned onto her back and spread her legs with a huff, which didn’t help because it reminded her of having Margaery between her legs, grinding against her thigh. Sansa could still feel the fullness of Margaery's arse in her hands and the turgid bud of Margaery's nipple against her tongue.

She shoved one hand down her pants with a frustrated whine.

She found her clit hard and drenched in a thick pool of wetness, and she attacked it with harsh, rapid strokes. She _wasn't_ enjoying this. She was only doing it because she needed to get back to sleep. She certainly wasn't thinking about Margaery Tyrell while she did it. Seemingly on its own, her other hand slipped under her shirt and kneaded her breast. She pinched and tugged at her nipple, much harder than she'd ever done before, but it still didn't feel nearly as good as when Margaery did it.

 _I think about what color your nipples are_ , Sansa heard as clearly as if Margaery were in bed with her. _I think about what they taste like, how they'd feel getting hard under my tongue_.

Sansa snarled, turned on her stomach, and began to rut against her hand, trying to speed up the motion of her fingers. She came less than a minute later, her climax a powerful, bone-deep thing that engulfed her like a wave. She was panting loudly enough to worry about waking someone but she couldn't make herself care. As good as the orgasm had felt, she was still open and needy, her pussy clenching desperately at nothing. It reminded her of Margaery's tongue _inside_ her, and Sansa growled in frustration, shoving her face into the pillow.

**~O~**

The next thing Sansa knew, Jeyne was shaking her awake, telling her that she was about to miss breakfast. Sansa slapped her away, not caring if she actually hit her or how hard, and rolled out of bed. Undoing her braid, Sansa began to rifle through her trunk for a brush.

“Get a move on, lazybones!” Randa teased, swatting Sansa on the arse as she went by.

Sansa shot upright and glared at her friend. “I'm going!” She was bitterly pleased when Randa's playful expression fell away and her hands came up in surrender.

“I'll just see you in the Great Hall then.” She turned and left the room a little faster than she usually would have this early in the morning.

Sansa huffed and began to brush her hair in quick, brutal strokes, simply ripping through the tangles she found instead of taking the time to gently work the brush through them. Her scalp was stinging as she picked up her bag and hurried to the Great Hall. She found her friends and dropped into her usual seat, snatching up whatever food she could reach. Noticing the shocked looks of her friends, Sansa forced herself to slow down.

“Just worried about being late,” she said stiffly.

They nodded tentatively, and Sansa went back to her food. Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Margaery waving at her from the Slytherin table. The smile on her face was the same one she'd had when she kissed Sansa for the first time. Sansa couldn't handle seeing that smile right now. She focused intently on her food, eating as fast as she could without drawing any more attention from her friends. When she was finished, she headed off to class, waving off Jeyne's request to wait so they could walk together.

Double Transfiguration was her first class of the day, and the demanding nature of the work was enough to keep Sansa's mind off the mess that was her life right now. She put everything she had into it, and by the time class was over, she'd earned Gryffindor twenty points. Desperate to preserve the mental respite the work had given her, she hurried to her next class without waiting for her friends. Arithmancy was even harder than Transfiguration, but Sansa reveled in the effort it took today.

She was on her way to lunch when it finally happened. Arithmancy had run long, so she was late making her way to the Great Hall. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Margaery at the far end of the corridor, heading right for Sansa. She looked as impeccable as ever, her light brown curls pulled into their usual half updo and her uniform somehow highlighting each and every one of her curves. As she got closer, Sansa noticed that she'd rolled the waistband of her skirt, not high enough to be tasteless, but enough to make Sansa's fingers itch to reach under it. She bit her lip and looked up at Margaery's face, her breath catching when she saw the lazy grin there. Her brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and Sansa's mind instantly flashed back to the night before. Margaery had looked just like that when she squeezed Sansa's breasts and asked her if she'd wanted to know what _she_ thought about them.

Want _burned_ between Sansa's legs, and she whimpered loud enough to draw a concerned glance from a passing Hufflepuff. Sansa was reminded then of just how _many_ people were around her. They could all probably see the filthy look Margaery was giving her right now, and that realization hit Sansa like a bucket of ice water. She couldn't handle this, not right now. Before she realized it, she was hurrying into an alcove. _I'm a bad Gryffindor_ , she thought miserably, pressing deeper into the alcove. _Arya was right_. Her sorting probably made Godric Gryffindor spin in his grave.

She stayed in the alcove until the corridor emptied, and when she still heard nothing after another few minutes, she tentatively peeked around a corner. The corridor was empty and silent. Even Margaery was gone. Relief flowed through her for a moment, but it seemed to crash painfully in the pit of her stomach. Margaery was gone. That was a _good_ thing. What happened between them couldn't happen again, so it was better that Margaery left her alone. So, why did it feel like someone had hit her in the stomach? Sansa's breath caught, and she hurried to the library. She could skip lunch today.

**~O~**

Missing dinner, however, was not an option.

By the time she'd finished with her classes, her navel felt like it was pressing into her spine. She looked pointedly at the floor as she walked to the Gryffindor table and took her usual place by her friends. She ignored Jeyne when she asked about Sansa’s day and mostly tuned out Randa excited chatter about a date with some Hufflepuff boy. Sansa deliberately took her time picking a dish and loading it onto her plate. She only looked up when she reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. That's when she got another glimpse of Margaery, who no longer looked giddy or wicked. Instead, she seemed concerned, and she sent Sansa a reassuring smile when their eyes met. It reminded Sansa of that first prefects' meeting. She knew now that Margaery’s care for her had been genuine. The realization sent a pang through Sansa's chest, and she looked away, hoping Margaery would just assume that Sansa hadn’t noticed her.

She finished her food and left without speaking to anyone. When she was back in her room, she put her things away and got ready to take a shower. For a moment, she considered going to the prefects' bathroom, but then she remembered that Margaery had access to it too. The thought of her finding Sansa alone, wet and naked, in that fancy bathroom made her hands spasm around the clean clothes she was holding. She forced those thoughts out of her mind and headed to the showers that everyone else used. Just like last night, she showered quickly, brushed her hair a hundred times, and braided it. She was conscious of when her friends started trickling back into the room, but she didn't do much more than wave at any of them before climbing into bed.

**~O~**

Such was the tone for the next several days.

Sansa would wake late and irritable, snapping at her friends or offering sullen silences in response to their attempts at conversation. She'd eat her meals quickly and then hurry to her classes without waiting for anyone to come with her. She focused on her lessons with an intensity that intimidated _her_ when she took the time to think about it. Any time she saw Margaery, she either hid or pretended that she hadn't seen her, and Margaery's attempts to get her attention started to come fewer and further between. Instead of making Sansa feel better, however, it only made her feel worse. More than once, she left the Great Hall in tears, and she often took it out on her friends. Then, she'd finish out her day with a shower, one hundred strokes of a brush, and homework. When she finished her homework, she'd go to bed early, and she would _dream_.

At first, she simply relived what had happened between her and Margaery in the prefects' lounge. Over and over again, she tasted Margaery's lips and felt Margaery's mouth on her breasts and on her clit. She felt Margaery's velvet skin beneath her hands and her hard nipples beneath Sansa's tongue. She heard Margaery's eager, dirty, _beautiful_ words so clearly that she wondered if she'd been bewitched. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Margaery smiling, laughing, _coming_. The dreams of the prefects' lounge stopped after a few nights, but Sansa continued to jerk awake in the middle of the night with drenched knickers and an aching emptiness between her legs.

She soon started dreaming of other things, so vividly that she sometimes wondered if they'd really happened somehow. She dreamed of Margaery naked under her, of pushing the other girl's legs apart and licking her until she begged to stop coming. She dreamed of Margaery in her Slytherin quidditch team uniform fingering Sansa open while she wore her leather gloves. She dreamed of the two of them in the prefects' bath, naked and wet and unable to get enough of each other, and she dreamed of the two of them naked in bed. Sometimes the drapes around them were dark red. Other times, they were emerald green.

Then, without fail, she would wake up wet and desperate with visions of Margaery flooding her head. She'd resist for a while, tossing and turning in an effort to get back to sleep, but she'd always give in. Her hand would slide into her knickers, and she'd rub herself until she came so hard that she'd have to muffle her cries into the pillow. It was _never_ enough. She’d feel herself grasping at emptiness and be reminded all over again of Margaery's fingers and tongue inside her.

The only break in the monotony were the nights she patrolled with Jojen Reed. Each time, he said in that solemn way of his that: “if ice can burn, then love and hate can mate.” Each time, she ignored it.

**~O~**

A full ten days after that fateful night in the prefects' lounge, Sansa's friends didn't show up for dinner.

Sansa didn't think too much about it. It was Sunday. More likely than not, they were working on the homework they'd neglected over the weekend. With that mystery solved, she turned her attention back to her meal, still resolutely ignoring Margaery Tyrell. She finished her meal quickly and left the Great Hall, ignoring the pang she felt in her chest when Margaery didn't try to get her attention. She went back to Gryffindor tower and headed straight up to her room as usual.

She froze when she came into her room.

All of her friends were there, sitting together on her bed. Their expressions were a mix of determined, concerned, and disapproving. What did they want now?

Sansa gasped when her wand suddenly flew out of her robes and into Randa's hand, and dread curled in her stomach when Mya sent a locking charm at the door.

“We need to talk,” Jeyne said firmly.

Unnerved, Sansa tried to collect herself. “Erm, do we have to right now? I have homework.”

Mya snorted. “I doubt it. The rate you're going, you're probably a month ahead.”

Sansa was actually three weeks ahead, but that was beside the point. She didn't want to talk. Maybe they didn't want her too either. Hopefully, they'd just say whatever they needed to say, and that would be the end of it. However, none of them spoke. They simply stared at her.

After a while, Sansa finally broke the tense silence herself. “Alright. What did you want to talk about?”

“You're being a bitch, San,” Mya said abruptly.

Sansa's mouth dropped open. There was no way she heard that correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Mya leaned forward and braced herself on her knees, aggression radiating from every inch of her frame. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Randa cut her off.

“We understand that Joffrey hurt you,” she started.

Just like that, Sansa's rising fury abated, and confusion took its place. What did Joffrey do now? She couldn't think of any recent thing. Randa kept talking, apparently unaware of Sansa's bewilderment.

“And we can't blame you for getting angry after you found out about Margaery Tyrell's part in it.”

Oh. Sansa remembered now. Margaery had “stolen” Joffrey from her. Margaery's voice echoed through her mind. _You'd have stayed with Joffrey forever if he wished it_. _So, if I wanted you, I had to make it so Joffrey wouldn't wish it. And gods, do I want you_.

Heat licked at Sansa's insides, and she willed herself not to shudder. She barely caught the last part of Randa's speech.

“It's not fair to take it out on us.”

“I wasn't,” Sansa said distractedly.

“Yes, you were!”

The fierceness of the words wrenched Sansa out of her daze, and she was horrified when she saw Jeyne looking like she was about to cry.

“Jeyne...” she started.

Jeyne didn't let her finish. “You won't talk to us, and when we try to talk to you, you just yell at us! You're acting like you _hate_ us and I want it to stop! I want to be friends again.” Her breath hitched, and Sansa's own chest tightened in response.

“It's not—” Sansa started, but the words came out in a thin rasp. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I didn't—”

She growled in frustration and then sent a meaningful look at her friends, willing them to understand. Mya crossed her arms, and Randa raised a single, unimpressed brow. Jeyne simply sniffled, and the sound lanced through Sansa.

“I've just had a lot on my mind,” she finished, painfully aware of what a poor excuse that was.

Her friends' expectant looks fell away. Now, they were resigned. Shaking their heads, they started to get up. Panic clawed at Sansa's chest. Were they giving up on her? Over this? No. No, they couldn't. She'd kept this from them so she _wouldn't_ have to worry about them leaving her.

“I'm sorry,” she blurted out. It wasn't enough. She knew it wasn't enough after she'd apparently spent almost two weeks convincing them that she _hated_ them, but it was enough to make them settle down again.

Mya sighed and leaned forward again, giving Sansa a serious look. “I know how much it sucks to have your boyfriend leave you for someone else. _You know_ how well I know that, but you don't get to take it out on the people who care about you.”

“I know,” Sansa whispered, looking at the floor. Shame pricked at her eyes.

“What brought this on, anyway?” Jeyne asked, still sounding a bit watery. “You weren't even this bad when Joffrey first broke up with you.”

“It's not about Joffrey,” Sansa said reluctantly.

Mya raised an eyebrow. “We were having a moment, San. Don't lie.”

Taking a deep breath, Sansa looked up at the ceiling. “It's really not. I haven't thought about him in weeks.”

That was actually true, and she hoped it was enough for her friends. They probably deserved to know what was really bothering her, but she just couldn’t imagine saying it. Whenever she tried, all she saw was a blank wall, and the thought of breaking through that wall terrified her. If she did, everything would change forever, and there would be no going back from it. Sansa wasn't ready for that. She took another deep breath and looked away from the ceiling. Her friends still looked dubious.

“Then, what _is_ it about?” Randa asked when the silence started to get uncomfortable.

“I...I—” Sansa's breath hitched, and her friends' eyes widened in concern. She took a ragged breath and looked at the ceiling again, trying to keep the tears from falling. “I don't want to talk about it. Please?” She wasn't quite able to get enough air, so the words sounded thin and reedy.

“You may not want to,” Randa ventured. “but it really sounds like you need to, love. You've been stewing in it for what? Two weeks now?”

Sansa nodded, pursing her lips to stop them from trembling.

“Then you should really just tell us, Sansa. There's nothing bad enough that you hurting like this is the _better_ option,” Jeyne reasoned.

“But what if it is?” Sansa croaked.

“You've not killed anyone or become a Death Eater, have you?” Mya asked.

Sansa shook her head, taking another ragged breath.

“Then it's not. Come on, let's hear it.”

Sansa tried to take a deep breath, but all she managed were a couple of sobs. She couldn't do it. This was too much.

“Sansa?” Jeyne asked. Her voice was gentle. “Sansa, look at me.”

Reluctantly, she looked away from the ceiling and focused hard on Jeyne's face. Her gentle smile and open stance screamed “reassurance.”

“It's okay,” Jeyne whispered, and that calmed Sansa somewhat.

She nodded. “Okay. Okay, I—” She swallowed hard and managed to get a deep breath in. Then she forced it out in a rush. “I had sex with Margaery Tyrell.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and a couple of tears ran down her cheeks. A second later, she realized she was trembling, and the longer her friends went without responding, the worse she shook. When it became unbearable, she opened her eyes again.

Her friends looked like they'd been hit with Stunners, matching expressions of confusion and surprise on all their faces.

Sansa let out another sob, and that seemed to yank her friends from their stupors. Mya was the first one to speak.

“So...was the sex really bad then?”

The assumption was so wrong that Sansa wanted to laugh. She burst into tears instead.

Her friends jumped off the bed and quickly surrounded her, startling Sansa a bit. She relaxed when they pulled her into a group hug. When they guided her onto the bed and cuddled around her, she cried even harder. Faintly, she heard her friends talking, but it took a minute for her to register what they were actually saying.

“You know we don't care if you like girls, right?”

“It's totally fine.”

“It doesn't matter at all. Hell, you could eat every pussy from here to Wales, and I'd just be impressed.”

“...what Randa said.”

Sansa's laugh was a watery, snorting thing that sounded absolutely appalling, but it made her friends laugh, and that made her feel better. She probably looked ridiculous, laughing and crying at the same time, but it didn't matter. She could probably walk on air right now. Her friends weren't treating her any differently. They still wanted her around. After a while, her friends stopped talking and simply held her while she cried. It was a long time before she calmed down. By the time the tears stopped, her insides were jagged and tender, but she also felt clean and unburdened. Everything was going to be okay. When she'd gone at least five minutes without sobbing, Sansa spoke.

“Sorry I was a bitch to you guys.”

“You had a lot on your mind,” Mya said dryly, and they all laughed.

“Well, I did tell you so,” Sansa replied.

“I still can't believe you actually had sex,” Randa commented. “Wasn't that one of the things you and Joffrey used to fight about?”

Sansa nodded against her chest.

“But then you just turned around and jumped on Margaery's—” Randa paused. “—fingers and tongue, I guess. Slag.”

Sansa knew that Randa was only teasing, so she didn't protest. Instead, she let out a huff of mirthless laughter. “I suppose so. I kind of felt like one.”

Randa gave her a squeeze. “I was just kidding, San.”

“I know, but I still felt like one.” She felt someone tug her hair. It felt reproachful, so she figured it was Mya. She was proven right when Mya spoke a moment later.

“That's how sex works. If you want a person, you fuck them. If you don't, you don't. You didn't want Joffrey, but you wanted Margaery. That's all. No shame feeling either way.”

“Thanks guys,” Sansa whispered.

“I'm still kind of stuck on the girl thing, to be honest. Not that I think it's bad!” Jeyne hurried to add when Sansa stiffened. “I just always thought of you being into boys, so I'm really surprised.”

Sansa let out another mirthless laugh. “You think _you_ were surprised?” She smiled for real when she felt Jeyne's laugh ruffle her hair.

“You really had no idea?” Randa asked.

“Not a bit,” Sansa admitted. “Though, looking back, I feel like I should have known. I've always had _thoughts_ about girls, but I thought I was just being appreciative. In hindsight, I was actually being really gay.”

Mya chortled.

“Or bisexual,” Sansa added, smiling.

“So, you still do like boys then?” Jeyne asked, stroking Sansa's hair.

“Maybe?” she thought aloud. “I feel like I have to, like, reexamine everything. You know how I thought I was just appreciating girls? What if, this whole time, it was actually that way with boys? Like, I thought I was having crushes when I was really just appreciating them aesthetically or something?”

One of her friends shrugged, making Sansa shift with them.

“I feel like I won't know for sure until I get another crush on a boy,” Sansa added. “but I'm not interested in one right now.”

“Because you like Margaery Tyrell,” Jeyne finished, and Sansa didn't need to see her knowing smile to know it was there.

She shifted, suddenly feeling kind of uncomfortable. “I think so, yeah. It's just the way she looked at me...”

“And how did she look at you?”

Sansa pictured the pure joy on Margaery's face the first time they kissed and described it to her friends.

“That's really sweet, actually,” Randa commented.

“What if she was playing you though? I _definitely_ heard her ask Joffrey to Hogsmeade,” Mya pointed out.

“Well, before we...” Sansa blushed and buried closer to Randa's chest.

“Fucked,” Mya finished.

“Fucked,” Sansa agreed, making her friends snicker. “She told me she's liked me since we first met, but she couldn't just ask me out because I was with Joffrey. She also said I was the kind of person who'd stay with him forever if he wanted me to, so she kind of...worked around him.”

“Did she really say that though or did you, like, infer that?” Jeyne asked. “What did she say exactly?”

Sansa's cheeks heated at the memory of the prefects' lounge, but she told them what Margaery had said, word for word. She also might have mentioned the way Margaery kissed her.

“Guys?” Sansa asked when none of them spoke for a while.

“Gods, that's hot!” Randa blurted out, and everyone but Jeyne laughed.

“She still interfered with your relationship though. Who's to say she won't sabotage anything else you want to do that she might not approve of?” Jeyne asked.

Sansa shrugged. “I could talk to her about it, I suppose.” Pain lanced through her chest as she remembered the way she'd treated Margaery over the last several days. “Or I could talk to her if I hadn't totally ruined my chances. So, I suppose it doesn't matter.”

“How'd you ruin your chances then?” Mya asked.

“I avoided her instead of dealing with my problems.”

“Well, you're dealing with them now,” Randa pointed out. “Maybe she'll forgive you if you explain all this to her. And you should definitely mention that manipulating your life like this is not on if she wants to be with you. If she doesn't want you after that, then fine. But at least you'll know.”

“Okay,” Sansa whispered, and that was the end of that.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about anything and everything else. Randa's date with the Hufflepuff boy had gone really well. She was going to go to the Slytherin-Hufflepuff quidditch match with him on Saturday. They all absolutely hated the Transfiguration essay they'd been assigned yesterday. Jeyne accidentally got on the wrong side of Moaning Myrtle, and the ghost had chased her almost to the fourth floor. It was was the happiest Sansa had felt in a long time.

When she went to bed that night, she was certain that everything would work out.

**~O~**

Sansa dreamed, as usual, but they weren't intense enough to wake her in the middle of the night. For the first time in almost two weeks she woke up on time and well-rested. She was practically bouncing around the room the next morning, making her friends smile indulgently at her.

“You're adorable,” Randa remarked. “You weren't even this cute when things were good with you and Joffrey.”

Sansa made a face at that, but Randa's words didn't bother her too much. She was too happy, practically glowing as she walked into the Great Hall with her friends. She was pretty, she was confident, and Margaery Tyrell wouldn't know what hit her. Today was going to be a great day.

She deflated a little when she sat down and didn't see Margaery at the Slytherin table. However, Sansa reminded herself, she had been coming late to breakfast for the past several days. Now, that she was back to eating at her usual time, she'd probably just arrived before Margaery. She smiled again and started preparing her breakfast, keeping an eye out for Margaery's brown curls. Margaery finally came through the doors when Sansa was about halfway through her meal. Her face split into a grin, and she straightened, trying to catch the older girl's eye. Margaery didn't look at the Gryffindor table though. Instead, she focused on the Slytherin one, and when she reached it, she sat facing away from the Gryffindors. Sansa's face fell.

“Ouch,” Mya commented.

Sansa tried not to let it get to her. Maybe Margaery hadn't seen her. Sansa went back to her meal and finished about five minutes later, her friends not far behind. They stood up and looked down at her expectantly. Sansa knew she should probably go with them, to make sure things really were alright between all of them, but she also wanted to stay behind a little longer. Maybe she could catch Margaery on her way out. She glanced at the Slytherin table and frowned. Margaery was chatting animatedly with a fourth year boy whose arms were as long and thick as a gorillas. She didn't see any sign of Margaery slowing down and, after a moment, Sansa stood and followed her friends out of the Great Hall. She could talk to Margaery when she wasn't as busy.

She headed to her classes and soon made an unfortunate discovery. While Sansa felt better about Margaery, her classes turned out to be a disaster. She lost points for inattention, wrong answers, and poor execution of a charm in Flitwick’s class. All Sansa could think about was her wish that class would _hurry up_. She needed to talk to Margaery. Eventually, it was time for lunch, and Sansa imagined that Flitwick in particular was glad to see the back of her.

She caught sight of a familiar head of curls right before she reached the Great Hall, and Sansa immediately took off after them, weaving through the crowd of students around her. However, no matter what she did, Margaery always managed to stay several steps ahead. After a moment's chase, Sansa finally decided to just call for her.

“Margaery!”

There was no sign that she'd heard anything. Sansa tried to walk even faster.

“Margaery!” she called again.

Margaery made it to the doors of the Great Hall, took a sudden left, and seemed to disappear behind the crowd. Sansa jogged after her and down a narrow corridor she hadn’t seen before. Perhaps the Slytherin common room was somewhere down there? Pausing, she peered down the corridor and found it empty. She took a few cautious steps forward, but she still didn't see anyone. A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She whirled around to find Jeyne with a sympathetic smile on her face. Her friend cocked her head in the direction of the Great Hall, and Sansa nodded, allowing herself be led away from the corridor.

That was how it was for the rest of the day.

She never caught more than a glimpse of Margaery in the corridors and, whenever she did, Margaery seemed to vanish seconds later. When she saw her at dinner, Margaery didn't respond to Sansa's attempts at getting her attention. By the time Sansa returned to Gryffindor tower that night, the hopeful voice in Sansa's head that had tried to rationalize Margaery's behavior was silent. There was no doubt about it now. Margaery was avoiding her.

**~O~**

Margaery’s skirting of Sansa continued for the next two days.

The only time Sansa saw her for any length of time was during meals. Sansa loved and hated those moments in equal measure. Sansa loved them, because she loved watching Margaery. She loved watching Margaery laugh with her friends and cousins, and she definitely loved watching Margaery use her Head Girl status to mediate conflicts and give advice. It was like watching a queen hold court.

However, she also hated meal times for two reasons. The first was that Margaery seemed totally oblivious to Sansa's efforts to get her attention. She waved, tried to make eye contact, and even shouted Margaery's name a couple of times but Margaery never seemed to notice her. It was frustrating but it wasn't nearly as awful as the second reason Sansa was beginning to hate meal times.

Ink Girl.

It was a stupid name, but she was a stupid girl, so it fit. Plus, she had ink-black hair, and she moved like ink through water. Whenever she saw Ink Girl walk, a feeling Sansa now recognized as attraction rolled through her gut. She hated that feeling, and she hated the thought of Margaery feeling it too. It didn't help that Margaery seemed to talk to Ink Girl all the time. By Wednesday, they were sitting together at every meal, heads bent close together and talking spiritedly about who knows what.

By the time dinner was over that night, Sansa was at her wit's end. All the hope she had left was pinned on the prefects' meeting tonight. There was no way Margaery could ignore her then. She all but flew to the prefects' lounge after dinner, arriving first and waiting anxiously for the others to arrive. The sooner they did, the sooner they could get the meeting over with and Sansa could _finally_ talk to Margaery. Unfortunately, no one arrived for another five minutes, and then it took another fifteen minutes for everyone else to trickle into the room. The Head Boy was the last to appear, and he immediately closed the door behind him.

Sansa frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen. Margaery wasn't here yet. It didn't seem to matter to Teddy though. He was already making noises about starting the meeting. Before he could say too much though, Sansa waved to get his attention.

“Yes, Sansa?”

“I'm sorry, Teddy, but...where's Margaery?”

“Our esteemed Head Girl had a prior engagement. The Slytherin quidditch team has practice tonight.” He directed the next part to the room at large. “She apologizes for her absence, but she insists that this practice was planned weeks in advance. Besides, with the game on Saturday, I figure they need all the practice they can get.” Teddy grinned as the prefects, particularly from Slytherin and Hufflepuff, erupted into shouts of outrage or agreement.

Sansa, however, barely heard them. Something in her chest had just given way and broken apart. She looked down and saw her hands balled into fists on her lap. She took a deep breath and willed them to relax. That was it then. Margaery didn't want her. She'd even gone to the trouble of planning a quidditch practice to avoid her. Sansa could read the meaning behind that just fine. She had missed her chance, and she'd probably never get another. She didn't speak for the rest of the meeting and she didn't hear much of it either. She spent most of the time staring at her hands in her lap. She dragged herself back to Gryffindor tower when the meeting was over. When she entered the common room, she caught sight of her friends piled onto one of the couches.

Jeyne saw her first and elbowed Mya and Randa. They gave her matching hopeful looks. _How did it go?_

Sansa gave them a watery smile and shook her head. _Not good._

Their faces fell, and Jeyne immediately started to stand.

Sansa stopped her with a quick shake of her head.

Jeyne still looked concerned, but she slowly lowered back onto the couch. Sansa gave her another rueful smile and started up the stairs to the dorm. With exaggerated precision, she put her things away and picked out some clean pyjamas. Then, she grabbed her toiletries and made her way down to the showers. When she got there, however, every stall was occupied. She looked down at the things in her hands and then back up at the crowded bathroom. She had no way of knowing who, if anyone, would be done soon, and she really wasn't in the mood to wait around.

Fuck it.

She didn't use the word often but today it was appropriate. Fuck. It.

She'd just spent the last two weeks in gay panic mode, alternating between worrying about her friends and family hating her and worrying if everything in her life was a lie; she'd blown her chance with the girl she liked and now, every shower was full. It was over a month into term, and she _still_ hadn't used the prefects' bathroom, because she'd been too afraid of running into Margaery. That was going to change right now. If she was going to be sad, she was going to be sad in a bathtub the size of a Muggle swimming pool while smelling like a hundred different flowers. Fuck it.

She turned and stalked out of the bathroom, charging back upstairs to find a bag. She dumped her things into a cloth bag Jeyne had given her and then made her way back downstairs. Her friends sent curious looks her way as she headed toward the portrait hole, but she didn't stop to explain. She just gave them a quick wave and left. She didn't slow down until she reached the fifth floor where she scanned the walls for the statue of Boris the Bewildered. After a moment, she found him and then counted four doors to his left.

Sansa stopped and cocked her head in front of the fourth door. It was rather nondescript for a place that so many people got excited about. Sansa hoped it lived up to all the talk. She took a breath and whispered the password. With a click, the door opened a couple of inches. Smiling, Sansa pulled it open a little more and slipped inside. Once she was inside, she pulled the door closed and toed off her slippers before turning around.

Her jaw dropped.

The room was enormous, and the cream-colored marble floor and walls only made it seem bigger. To her left was a wall of stained glass windows, and for a moment, Sansa regretted coming here at night. The prefects' bathroom must have been even more gorgeous during the day. She was so busy admiring everything that it took her a moment realize that she wasn't alone in the room.

“Oh gods, I'm so sorry!” she exclaimed when she caught sight of the person sitting in the bath.

She was already turning away when she realized that the person was none other than Margaery Tyrell. For a long moment, Sansa stared at the door leading out to the corridor, wondering what to do. Despite her defiant thoughts earlier, she hadn't really wanted to run into Margaery. It was embarrassing, and the sight of her made Sansa's chest ache even worse than it had before. However, she couldn't make herself walk away. This was the closest she'd been to Margaery since that night in the prefects' lounge, and it might be the closest she'd ever be to her again. With a sigh, she slid her bag off her shoulder and turned around. She took a few steps forward, and Margaery's eyes widened.

“We need to talk,” Sansa said, quiet but firm. “Could we?”

Margaery quirked an eyebrow at Sansa. “You made it clear that you weren't interested in talking to me.”

“I am now.”

“And I'm not now. Go away.”

Both the words and the delivery were harsh, and something in Sansa's chest cracked. Forcing herself not to wince, she nodded at Margaery. “I deserve that. I totally understand if you never want to see me again, but would you let me explain? Please? You deserve that much.”

Sansa didn't have hope for any kind of relationship with Margaery, not now, but she did owe the other girl an apology. Margaery stared at her, like she was trying to gauge Sansa's sincerity. Sansa held her gaze and tried to look as earnest as possible. After a while, Margaery huffed.

“Turn around.”

“What?” Sansa asked. She'd been expecting a yes or no.

Margaery looked at her like she was an idiot. “I'm getting out. I don't want to be sitting naked in a pit with you looming over me.”

Ignoring the barb about her height, Sansa nodded and turned to face the door.

It seemed to take ages for her to get out of the bath and get dressed. After a while, Sansa began to wonder if Margaery had somehow managed to sneak out. It would be funny, in a bitter sort of way. To think that she was finally getting a chance to talk to Margaery only to turn around and realize she'd disappeared. Would Margaery find a way to get past her to the door or was there another entrance to the prefects' bathroom? By the time Margaery finally said it was okay to turn around, Sansa was half-convinced that Margaery had somehow managed to apparate out of the room.

She turned around and almost jumped when she found Margaery standing right in front of her in a leaf-green bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair.

“You wanted to explain?” Margaery asked. She waved one hand in a gesture that clearly meant 'get on with it.'

Sansa was helpless all of a sudden. She'd tried so hard to get Margaery to talk to her that she hadn't actually taken the time to think about what she'd say. And there was so much she needed to say. It was all clamoring to come out at once, but it only succeeded in getting stuck in her throat.

“Oh, well, er,” she started.

Margaery crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. Even worse, she looked like she was about to step around Sansa and walk out.

It was enough to make Sansa force out: “I needed time!”

Margaery's expression didn't waver, but Sansa felt that she had her attention. She took a breath, and the words came a little easier this time.

“I just...needed time. To, er, process. I'm a processer. Before you, I’d never...thought about girls like that before. Well, I guess I kinda did, but it was just wanting to touch them and cuddle with them not, like, do what _we_ did.”

Margaery's face didn't change, so Sansa hurried to finish her explanation.

“But anyway, we, erm, _happened,_ and it's huge. Like, make me question my whole bloody life huge, because I've _always_ known what I wanted. I knew I would find a cute boy and then we'd get married and we'd have a houseful of children and it'd be wonderful. But then you _happened_ and it made me rethink _all of that._ You made me rethink everything, even something as simple as what I think about girls, and now...”

Again, the words got stuck in her throat. She couldn't say it. There was no way she could say it. She knew that if she did, Margaery could rip her to pieces. She didn't think could handle that. But then, hadn't she done the same to Margaery? It was only fair, she supposed. She was still thinking it over when Margaery raised her chin and spoke.

“And now what?”

Her expression hadn't changed much, but Sansa thought she heard Margaery's breathing pick up. Something bloomed in Sansa's chest, and it made her want to tell the truth, even if it would only make it easier for Margaery to break her heart.

“You're all I can think about,” Sansa breathed, and then the rest was even easier than before. “I want you, Margaery Tyrell. I want to have sex and go to Hogsmeade with you and hold hands in the corridors and go to your quidditch games because more than anything else, I really liked seeing you smile. But, I know I ruined my chance to have all that, so instead I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I avoided you, and I'm sorry I hurt you.”

Margaery blinked.

With bated breath, Sansa waited for Margaery to say something, anything, but she didn't. The longer the silence went on, the less likely it seemed that Margaery was going to say anything. Fair enough. She gave the other girl a half-smile.

“Goodbye, Margaery.” She started to turn away.

“Sansa.”

Sansa turned back around and then froze when Margaery took two steps forward. They now stood chest to chest. Margaery looked up, caught Sansa's gaze, and held it. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Margaery's lips curved into a small smile. It was a brittle thing that looked out of place on her face, and suddenly, Sansa missed her joyful smile so much it _ached._

She didn't get to think about that too long though, because Margaery was rising on her tiptoes. Her lips met Sansa's, and it sent a swell of heat through Sansa's blood, warming her from the inside out. It was like coming home. Sansa's eyes fluttered closed, and she returned the kiss, soft and slow. They were both panting a bit when they broke apart. Sansa's eyes trailed over Margaery's face, taking in her heavy-lidded eyes, the light blush on her cheeks and her parted lips, already a bit darker from their kiss. Without meaning to, Sansa let out an incredulous huff of laughter. How was she able to have this?

Margaery let out a shaky breath in response, and then she smiled again. It was small but sincere. It made Sansa's own smile widen, and then Margaery's did too. Before long, they were grinning at each other like a pair of lovesick fools. Margaery pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed Sansa again, and this one had more heat behind it. Sansa was definitely panting when they broke apar,t but Margaery only looked more sure of herself. Her mouth twisted into a sly smile that immediately sent Sansa back to that night two weeks ago.

“Get naked, Stark,” Margaery ordered.

The words knocked the breath out of Sansa, and Margaery's smile broadened even more. She took a step back and waved her hand in that 'get on with it' gesture.

Sansa whined as Margaery began to walk away, reaching after her, but Margaery simply laughed and sauntered over to the bath. When she reached the edge of it, she took the towel off her head and tossed it in the direction of some shelves. Turning to face Sansa, she untied her robe and let it fall open, revealing a thin strip of golden flesh. Sansa's eyes followed the path of exposed skin, from Margaery's collarbones, to her navel and then to the small patch of brown hair between her thighs. Her gaze lingered there for a moment because she hadn't been lucky enough to see that last time. Margaery cleared her throat, and Sansa started, her eyes snapping back to Margaery's amused face.

She gave Sansa an obvious once-over. “Why do you still have clothes on?”

“Oh! Right!” Sansa's hands flew up to the collar of her shirt and started unbuttoning.

“You didn't answer my question,” Margaery said mildly.

“Pardon?”

“I said, you never answered my question. Why do you still have clothes on?”

Sansa's hands stalled as she thought about her answer.

“I didn't tell you to stop,” Margaery said, looking pointedly at Sansa's hands.

Sansa squeaked and then started unbuttoning again. Her hands were shaking now. “I...was distracted,” she explained quickly.

Margaery cocked her head. “What distracted you, Sansa?”

“You.” she murmured. “You're distracting me.”

Margaery straightened and raised her eyebrows at Sansa. “Really? It didn't seem like you had a problem ignoring me before.”

The words sent a shard of pain through Sansa's chest, and she immediately shook her head. “It wasn't easy. I thought about you all the time.”

She finished unbuttoning her shirt, and with a quick, fortifying breath she shrugged the material down her arms. Blood rushed to her cheeks when Margaery's eyes latched onto her breasts, still covered with an old, pale blue bra.

“Did you?” Margaery asked, the words sounding rather strained.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I even dreamed about you.” The words were so quiet that _she_ almost didn't hear them, but Margaery didn't seem to have any trouble. Her next words came out in a growl.

“Keep going.”

Sansa didn't know if Margaery meant keep getting undressed or keep talking. After a moment’s thought, Sansa decided to do both. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms before tossing it behind her. Margaery's gaze on her chest was hot enough to burn, and she was panting. Heat began to pool between Sansa's legs.

“I dreamed about you,” she repeated, the words firmer this time, and Margaery's eyes snapped back to her face. “I dreamed about what we did every night. I-I could feel it like it was still happening, and then I'd wake up...wet. I'd still feel your mouth o-on my cunt, and I'd wake up wanting you so much it _hurt_.” Sansa's breath hitched as she remembered those nights, how she'd been so frustrated she could have cried. She actually had a couple of times. “Then, I'd touch myself, but it was never enough.”

She undid the hook at the back of her skirt and pulled down the zipper. Margaery's eyes followed the garment as it slid down Sansa's legs. Sansa looked down at herself. Her knickers were the only thing she still had on. She looked up at Margaery from beneath her lashes. Hungry was the only word she could use to describe the way Margaery was looking at her, and she was physically leaning towards Sansa. It made her robe fall open a little more, and Sansa licked her lips at the sight of more bare skin. Taking a deep breath, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and then pushed them down her hips. When her knickers reached her feet, Sansa stepped out of them and kicked them to one side before walking to Margaery. When she was close enough, she stopped and took Margaery's face in her hands, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

Margaery made a surprised noise in the back of her throat that morphed into a groan, and Sansa smiled. The smile widened when she felt Margaery's hands on her waist, and her own hands began to move. One settled at the nape of Margaery's neck, and the other stopped at the small of her back. She jerk Margaery closer, and they both gasped at the bit of skin-to-skin contact Margaery's open robe gave them. Sansa instantly wanted more. She pulled away and moved her hands to Margaery's shoulders. At Margaery's nod, Sansa pushed the robe off. She only had a moment to enjoy the sight before Margaery yanked her in for another kiss, her hands burying themselves in Sansa's hair. Sansa moaned and pulled Margaery tight against her, her hands sliding down the other girl's back to settle on her arse. She squeezed and grinned when Margaery gasped into her mouth.

“Bath,” Margaery said between kisses. “Bath. _Now_.”

She backed away from Sansa, who reluctantly let go. Sansa watched as Margaery moved slowly down the steps into the water. Her eyes trailed over Margaery's back, taking in the expanse of soft-looking skin, the curve of her spine, and her arse. Firm and round, Sansa's fingers itched to touch it again. She almost whimpered when it disappeared under the water. Margaery turned around and raised a brow at Sansa.

“I invited you in here, you know,” she teased.

“Just enjoying the view,” Sansa said honestly. However, Margaery must have taken it for teasing, because she let out a bark of husky laughter. She made a show of looking Sansa up and down.

“So am I,” Margaery said a moment later. “And what a view it is.”

Sansa's cheeks flamed, and her smile grew into something wide and giddy. She took a step into the water and gasped when she found it practically scalding. She took another step down and closed her eyes as the hot water lapped over her shins. She opened them again a moment later and found Margaery watching her intently. They were much too far away from each other, Sansa decided. She took another step down and then jumped right into the water, landing with a splash that made Margaery shriek. She straightened and then smoothed down her wet hair, taking quick glances at Margaery and smiling. They still weren't close enough.

She backed Margaery up against the side of the bath and swooped down to capture her mouth with her own. She groaned softly when Margaery's lips parted beneath hers, and her tongue dipped into her mouth. They kissed for several long, lazy moments and then Margaery suddenly pulled away. Sansa let out a whine that immediately turned into a breathless cry as Margaery's mouth latched onto the side of her neck. She sucked hard, and Sansa's knees gave out. She fell forward, pressing Margaery even harder against the marble, and rained kisses on any skin she could reach.

After a while, she tangled her fingers in Margaery's hair and pulled the other girl away from her neck. She tugged her head back, exposing the long column of Margaery's throat and ducked down, closing her lips over the skin beneath Margaery's ear. She smiled at the gasp it coaxed out of Margaery's mouth. She took her time exploring Margaery's neck, kissing, licking, and sucking at the soft skin there. She listened carefully and took note of what made Margaery gasp, moan, or writhe against her. She'd been too overwhelmed to do much more than lie back and let Margaery do whatever she wanted last time. She hadn't touched Margaery nearly as much as she'd wanted to. Now, that was going to change.

She sunk her teeth into the spot where Margaery's neck met her shoulder, and she grinned

when Margaery jerked and made some kind of choked noise. Sansa licked at the spot, soothing whatever pain she'd caused and began to move lower, shaking slightly in anticipation. She took a quick breath and then licked a broad stroke down Margaery's left breast, crouching slightly so her chest was at eye level. Sansa lapped at the other girl's nipple and smiled when she felt it harden under her tongue. Then, she took it into her mouth, sucking and flicking at it with her tongue. Her hand slid up to knead at Margaery's other breast, and, remembering the way the other girl had squealed last time, Sansa pinched Margaery's nipple. Margaery repeated the sound and Sansa let out a bark of delighted laughter. Margaery's hand tangled in her wet hair then, making her grunt, but the sound transformed into a moan when Margaery pulled her head even closer to her breast.

“Gods!” Margaery's voice was low and rough. “That feels so good, Sansa.”

Sansa pulled off of Margaery's breast with a gasp and then moved to the other, her hand coming up to the breast she'd abandoned. She swept her tongue over the hardened nipple and then sucked it into her mouth, trying out the quick, tantalizing pulls that Margaery had used on her last time. Mewling, Margaery grabbed the back of Sansa's head and used both hands to pull her closer. Sansa nipped gently at Margaery's nipple, who yelped and let go of Sansa's head. Sansa licked it in apology and then sucked. She coaxed as many noises as she could from Margaery before pulling away.

She planted a kiss between Margaery's ribs and then trailed her lips down her torso, frowning when her mouth hit water. She looked up at Margaery beneath her lashes. The sight of her dark pink cheeks and red, bitten lips made Sansa preen. She skimmed her tongue back up Margaery's stomach, dropping a quick kiss on one of her nipples, and then trailed her lips back up to Margaery's ear. She flicked her tongue over the lobe before biting down, and Sansa reveled in the way Margaery shuddered beneath her. Her hands slid up and down Margaery's sides, grazing her breasts a few times, before moving to her back and then down to her arse. Giving it a squeeze, she pressed another kiss to Margaery's ear.

“Can you sit on the edge of the bath, please?” she whispered.

“Always so polite,” Margaery tried to tease, but she sounded too breathless. She reached back and braced both hands on the marble edge. With Sansa's help, she pushed herself out and leaned back on her hands, crossing her legs at the ankles. She raised her eyebrows at Sansa, challenging. Sansa slid her hands up and down Margaery's outer thighs and then pressed a kiss to each of her knees, a silly thing that made them both smile. Then, she settled both hands on Margaery's knees and began to push them apart. Margaery's eyes widened, and her smile fell, but she allowed Sansa to move her. Her eyes darted back and forth between Sansa's hands and her face, like she couldn't believe Sansa was doing this. Soon, her arse was perched on the edge of the bath, her legs spread wide.

The urge to look between them, to explore that place until Sansa knew how every part felt beneath her fingers and tongue, was almost overwhelming. She looked up at Margaery, her hands sliding up and down the other girl's thighs. Occasionally, they came close to where they both wanted her to touch, close enough to make Margaery stop breathing, but Sansa always pulled away. She wanted to savor this, the sight of Margaery naked and stretched out in front of her. She hadn't been able to last time.

The flush on Margaery's cheeks had spread, leaving her pink and pretty from high in her cheeks to the top of her chest. Sansa's eyes followed the path of that blush to Margaery's breasts and lingered. She loved Margaery's breasts, how full and soft they were, big enough to spill out of her hands. Almost of their own volition, her hands slid up Margaery's legs to her sides, and then to her breasts. Her hands closed over them and squeezed. Margaery's head fell back and she let out a contented moan, making Sansa sigh in response. She stood on her toes to press kisses into the soft skin of Margaery's breasts, making a grateful noise when Margaery straightened and leaned forward, laying her hands on her knees. Soon, Sansa's mouth moved to Margaery's nipples. She loved these too, loved the way they tasted and how they felt against her tongue. She gave them each a quick suck, flicking her tongue around them and then pulled away to look at the rest of Margaery. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight of Margaery's stomach.

“I didn't know you had abs!” she exclaimed, her fingers tracing over the bumps and ridges of Margaery's muscled stomach. They were so much more obvious now that Margaery was leaning forward.

“Quidditch player,” Margaery reminded her. “I have these too.” She lifted her arms and flexed.

Sansa's eyes widened as the skin on Margaery's upper arms tightened into toned lines. She wanted to lick them. The fact that she couldn't reach them from her place in the water was an _actual_ tragedy. She bit back a sigh of longing. Someday, she promised herself. Suddenly, Margaery put her arms down, and Sansa frowned. Just because she couldn't lick Margaery's muscles didn't mean she was done looking at them! Fully prepared to glare dramatically at Margaery for depriving her of the muscles, she looked up at the other girl's face. Or she tried to. To her surprise, Margaery's shoulders were hunched, and she was looking pointedly away from Sansa. Sansa's eyebrows furrowed. Was Margaery actually...self-conscious about her muscular arms? For some reason, it had never occurred to her that _Margaery Tyrell_ could be self-conscious about anything. She looked back at Margaery's biceps. Well now, Sansa _had_ to lick them. But they were so far away...oh!

She clamped her hands over Margaery's hips and then licked a broad, hot stripe between the defined ridges of her abs. Margaery bucked and gaped down at her. Sansa gave her a wicked grin in return. “I like the muscles,” she panted. She nipped at the skin of Margaery's stomach. “I think they're hot.”

Margaery's lips pursed, like she was hiding a smile, and looked away. Sansa grinned again. Margaery was adorable. She pressed a kiss to Margaery's stomach and then another, lower. She slowly kissed her way down, and when she passed Margaery's navel, she felt the other girl move. Sansa looked up and saw Margaery staring down at her, eyes half-closed and lips parted. Keeping her eyes on Margaery's, Sansa continued to kiss down Margaery's body, only looking away when her lower lip touched hair. She backed up a bit and then took a breath to prepare herself. Then, she looked down, her hands sliding off Margaery's hips. One settled high on Margaery's inner thigh, and the other trailed over Margaery's mound, marveling at the soft skin beneath her hands.

“I dreamed about this too,” Sansa murmured. “Tasting you.”

“Oh, gods,” Margaery breathed.

Using her thumbs, Sansa parted Margaery's folds and bit her lip at the sight of the slick pink flesh before her. A powerful wave of _want_ roared through her blood, and before she could think too much about it, she leaned forward and licked a long, slow stroke up Margaery's slit, taking note of a hard bit she felt near the top. Distantly, she heard Margaery gasp, but she was too focused on what she was doing to think much about it. Surprisingly, the taste wasn't that bad, more salty than anything. She gave Margaery another long, slow lick, and she flicked her tongue over that hard bud that must have been the clit. This time, she did notice Margaery's high-pitched, ragged gasp and the way her hips bucked toward Sansa's mouth. That decided it for her. Sansa liked doing this.

“Sorry,” Margaery rasped.

Sansa didn't reply, instead leaning forward to lick another wide stripe between Margaery's legs, from opening to clit. She smiled at the shudder that wracked Margaery's body and then focused on her clit, lapping over it in short, broad strokes. Margaery made another warbling, high-pitched sound, and Sansa pressed even closer, her hands gripping Margaery's arse to keep her in place. She groaned when she felt one of Margaery's hands grip her hair.

“Around—” Margaery yelped. “—around! Please! Too sensitive.”

Sansa stopped for a second, considering that, and then tried circling her tongue around Margaery's clit. She couldn't quite manage it. All she could do was a vaguely circular movement where her tongue flicked over Margaery's clit every couple of strokes anyway, but Margaery seemed to like it well enough.

“Oh! Oh, yes, just like that!” Margaery cried, her hips rocking against Sansa's face.

Or maybe a little more than “well enough.” Sansa smiled a bit, feeling rather proud of herself.

“Little—little bit faster, pleas—”

Sansa sped up, and Margaery keened.

“Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes, Sansa! You're doing so good!” Both of her hands settled on the back of Sansa's head, pulling her closer.

Sansa was enjoying this, but she could already tell that the speed was going to be too much for her if she kept it up for too long. The back of her tongue was already starting to ache, and she could feel that her jaw wasn't too far behind.

“Sansa...” Margaery moaned. “So good, sweetling.”

Sansa glowed at the endearment and hummed in acknowledgment. Margaery let out a shocked cry, and Sansa paused for a second. Huh. That could be something. She closed her lips around Margaery's clit and hummed again, drawing a long, wavering moan from the other girl. She established something of a pattern after that; quick circular strokes over and around Margaery's clit and then, when her tongue got tired, she would close her lips around Margaery's clit and hum. Occasionally, she would suck on it, reveling in the way it made Margaery cry out and writhe.

“Try...try fingers,” she panted.

Sansa hummed again, making Margaery gasp, and moved one of her hands from Margaery's arse to her pussy. Slowly, she slid a finger inside, groaning loudly at the feel of it. It was tight around her finger and hotter than she'd ever imagined. She moved her finger in and out a few times and then added another. It took her a moment, but she managed to work out a rhythm of her fingers moving inside Margaery and her tongue moving over her clit.

“Oh gods, yes!” Margaery cried, as her body began to tense and spasm. A moment later, she let out another cry, and her body stopped moving completely. Sansa felt Margaery clenching around her finger and realized that Margaery had come. She kept moving anyway, flicking her tongue over Margaery's clit until the other girl pushed her away. Laying her head on Margaery's knee, Sansa looked up at her.

Her eyes were closed, and she was slumped forward, her chest heaving with each breath. The pink flush that had started at her cheekbones and ended right below her collarbones now extended from her hairline to her nipples, and her entire body shone with sweat. Sansa smiled, not even bothered by the ache in her jaw. She did that. She was the one who'd taken Margaery apart like this. Not bad for a first time. She lolled her head to one side and kissed Margaery's thigh.

A moment later, Margaery's hand slid into her hair. Sansa looked up, her brows furrowing when Margaery began to pull her away. She gasped when Margaery slid into the water with a splash. The hot water made Margaery gasp as well, but then she was reversing their positions, backing Sansa up against the side of the bath. Her mouth collided with Sansa's in a deep, greedy kiss that made Sansa's knees weak. A moment later, Margaery pulled away for a quick breath and then dove back in, pressing hard, biting kisses against Sansa's lips.

“That was amazing,” Margaery said between kisses. “ _You_ are amazing.” She pressed even closer then, until every inch of her body was against Sansa's. She pulled away from Sansa's mouth to shower kisses down her neck. “Gods, I'll never get enough of you.”

“I hope not,” Sansa rasped. Her arms came up to wrap around Margaery's waist. “Because I don't think I could ever let you go now.”

Margaery let out a delighted laugh against her neck and then moved lower. Sansa gasped when Margaery's mouth closed around one of her nipples, nipping at it before soothing the brief, wonderful sting with her tongue. Then she started to suck in long, slow draws that made Sansa melt against the hard marble. A few moments later, Margaery moved to her other nipple and repeated the process, her hand coming up to knead and caress the breast she left behind.

Sansa was so focused on the feeling of Margaery's mouth on her that she didn't notice Margaery's other hand until two fingers thrust inside her. Sansa let out a cry so loud it was almost a shriek. It hurt a bit, but the pain was tempered by the pleasure of of Margaery's mouth and hand on her breasts. Even better, the hand Margaery had between her legs was more careful after that, her fingers moving slowly in and out, and Sansa arched against her for more. The fingers sped up, and Sansa cried out again when Margaery's thumb began rubbing quick, harsh circles around her clit.

“Margaery...” she whined, “Oh, gods, Margaery, that feels so good!”

Margaery pulled away from her breast and licked up to her mouth, giving her another deep, mind-melting kiss. She gasped when Margaery pulled away again and then moaned when Margaery began pressing kisses to her ear.

“Are you going to come?” Margaery asked, voice strained. She licked the sensitive spot behind Sansa's ear, making her jerk. “Are you going to come for me, sweet girl?”

“Yes!” Sansa panted. “Yes!”

She could feel it coming too, the mounting pressure deep inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke of Margaery's fingers. Gods, she was so close. A few seconds later, she shattered, coming so hard she saw black spots behind her eyes. She had to blink and shake her head to clear it. When she came back down, she found herself clinging to Margaery, trembling a little. Margaery's hand was stroking slowly up and down her spine, and she was pressing soft kisses on her neck.

Sansa turned her head, and her mouth connected with Margaery's. She flicked her tongue against Margaery's lips, inviting her to deepen the kiss, and she let out a soft moan when Margaery accepted. It was a warm, drugging pull of lips that made Sansa want to burrow under some blankets with Margaery and never leave. There was no way Sansa would ever try to leave Margaery again. She nuzzled Margaery's neck.

“No one has ever made me feel so good before,” she confessed, her lips grazing the skin of Margaery's neck as she spoke. Margaery hummed and Sansa felt the vibration of it beneath her lips. A moment later Margaery spoke, her voice full to the brim with mischief.

“Not even Joffrey?”

Sansa scoffed and Margaery laughed.

“No one,” Sansa repeated once Margaery was finished laughing. She shivered slightly when she felt Margaery's lips against her ear.

“I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. Just one look was enough to have me plotting for nearly a year.”

“Very devious,” Sansa replied, grinning against Margaery's neck.

“I try,” Margaery deadpanned. Then, she pulled away and gave Sansa a narrow-eyed glare. “But you kept ruining my plans.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Sansa asked, unable to keep the outrage out of her voice.

Margaery laughed, but there was no malice in it. “I mean that my original plan was to make friends with you once you realized what a prick Joffrey was. I would gradually open you up to the possibility of dating women and then, if all went well, we'd be having sex all over the castle by Easter hols.”

Sansa frowned at Marg's smug tone. “You were really _that_ sure I would be interested?”

Margaery raised her eyebrows and then looked down.

Sansa looked down as well, taking in their naked bodies. “Fair enough.”

They both laughed at that, and Margaery pressed another kiss to Sansa's ear. She started talking again.

“But then you found out about me and Joffrey in the library, and _I_ found out that there is no possible way to resist you when you're angry. It is my...third favorite look for you.”

“Third favorite?” Sansa asked, amused.

“Second is when you're smiling,” Margaery said matter-of-factly. Then, her lips curled into a filthy smirk, and she pulled Sansa down so their lips were almost touching. “First is when you're coming.”

Sansa closed her eyes and shuddered and Margaery's tongue slipped into her mouth. They exchanged another one of those slow, mind-melting kisses, and when they broke apart, Sansa opened her eyes again and found Margaery's wicked smile gone. A softer one had taken its place. She pulled Sansa back down so their foreheads were touching.

“I was thinking about making another plan,” Margaery continued. “after what happened in the prefects' lounge because even though my feelings were hurt, I still wanted you.”

The reminder that she'd hurt Margaery lanced through Sansa's chest. She pressed soft kiss to Margaery's forehead. “I'm sorry.”

“It really is okay. I understand now.”

Sansa smiled a bit, feeling better. “So, what happens now?”

Margaery's smile took on a teasing edge. “Well, I believe you came here for a bath.”

“Really?” She knew it was ridiculous after everything they'd already done, but the thought of actually bathing with Margaery made her feel shy.

“Yeah. Let's do it,” Margaery replied. With that, she pulled Sansa towards one of the many jeweled taps around the bath. She turned it, and a thin stream of green liquid began to pour out. Margaery caught it in one hand and then used the other to turn the tap off. “Alright, get your hair wet.”

“Are you going to...wash my hair?” Sansa asked, not quite able to believe it.

“I'm going to bathe you,” Margaery said bluntly.

“Oh...okay,” Sansa murmured. She ducked under the water for a moment and then resurfaced, pushing her hair back and brushing water out of her eyes.

“Alright, now crouch down a little, you giantess.”

Sansa chuckled and then bent her knees until Margaery could reach the top of her head, gasping a little when the cold shampoo touched her scalp. Sansa soon found that Margaery was very good at washing hair. She was practically boneless by the time Margaery finished scrubbing her hair, and she smiled drunkenly when Margaery swam away to get soap from another tap. Margaery returned the smile and then lathered up a flannel to start washing Sansa's body. She washed Sansa from head to toe, even more thoroughly than Sansa did herself.

It still felt strange, being bathed by someone else. In some ways, it felt more intimate than sex, but Sansa liked it. By the time she’d rinsed off, Sansa wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Margaery and go to sleep. She tangled their fingers together and walked with Margaery out of the bath. It took a while to dry off because they were never more than a foot or two away from each other, and they kept getting distracted, exchanging hugs and lazy kisses. They eventually managed it though. Dried off and dressed, Sansa smiled as she watched Margaery bend to pick up her things.

“Margaery?” she asked.

“Yes, sweetling?”

Sansa smiled at the endearment. “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Margaery straightened and turned to face her. She looked at Sansa for a moment and then her face split into that wide, happy smile.

“I'd like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I JUST REMEMBERED I NEVER THANKED ALITTLESTARDUSTCAUGHT!!  
> Her glorious beta work made this fic possible, so I thank her :D


End file.
